


Begin Again (Mortician!Steve and Baker!Bucky Modern "Moving On" AU)

by loveforpreserumsteve



Series: Every New Beginning [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Baker!Bucky, Heartbreak, Left at the Alter, M/M, Mortician!Steve, Moving On, Pining, Stucky - Freeform, Wedding gone wrong, life is a mess, oof
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:21:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 37
Words: 47,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23337550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loveforpreserumsteve/pseuds/loveforpreserumsteve
Summary: "Pressing his lips together in an attempt to calm his utter happiness, Steve gave Brock's hands a giddy squeeze.  Especially once the pastor turned towards Brock and instructed, 'Repeat after me.  'I, Brock Henry Rumlow.''Taking in a deep breath, Brock started, 'I, Brock Henry Rumlow.''Take you, Steven Grant Rogers,' the pastor continued.'Take,' Brock paused.'Take,' the pastor encouraged, 'Take you, Steven Grant Rogers.'Brock nodded, clearing his throat, 'Take, take you…  Steve… take you, Steve --'Steve leaned forward, urging Brock to continue.  Already knowing exactly what to say because he had been waiting for this day, this moment, since he was a kid.'I can't,' Brock said instead.Steve blinked a couple of times, 'What?'Brock lowered his voice and repeated, 'I can't.  I can't do this.'Leaning closer, 'This really isn't funny.''I'm not joking,' Brock assured.  Brock shook his head and gave the room a side glance as he clarified, 'This… isn't what I… want.'-Modern Stucky AU-Smut and other mature content***I don't own Marvel or the characters of Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, nor any of the other Marvel characters
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers/Brock Rumlow, Steve Rogers/Original Male Character(s)
Series: Every New Beginning [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1851583
Comments: 284
Kudos: 260





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> To keep up-to-date with everything that's going on in my life, my fics, and to see cute pictures of my pets, be sure to follow me on [instagram](https://www.instagram.com/loveforpreserumsteve/)
> 
> I've also self-published [Call It What You Want](https://www.amazon.com/Call-What-Want-Minnie-Nicole/dp/1986446255/ref=sr_1_1?dchild=1&keywords=call+it+what+you+want+minnie+nicole&qid=1601172728&sr=8-1)
> 
> And if you would like some to purchase some merch based off of loveforpreserumsteve fanfics and Minnie Nicole Books, you can get them at [The Fanfic Was Better](https://teespring.com/stores/thefanficwasbetter)
> 
> Much love and appreciation  
> Minnie ❤❤❤

**One:**

Today was the day.

Steve's heart swelled at the thought of finally being married to the man he loved. To be able to call Brock his husband. To live in married bliss. Steve could just see it now. And he couldn't wait. It had been the only thing that Steve had been able to think about from the moment that Brock had popped the question.

If Steve was being really honest though, he had been anticipating this day from the moment he met Brock at that bar all those years ago. Thinking about the confident way that Brock approached him, and just how smoothly he knew just how to pick him up, brought a fond grin to Steve's face. Brock was everything that Steve wasn't, and perhaps that was what drew Steve in at first. All he knew now was that he was happily in love and couldn't wait to celebrate that love with everyone in his life.

"Eddie, please stop fidgeting," Steve's ever-patient father, Joe, pleaded as he attempted to pin the single white ranunculus boutonniere to the nine year old's new black suit.

"But it's itchy," Eddie complained as he pulled at the collar of his white starched shirt.

Rolling his eyes, Joe pushed down his exasperation as he quickly used Eddie's whining to his benefit and finally pinned the boutonniere. Standing up, Joe affectionately smiled down at the youngest Rogers' member and ruffled the kid's auburn hair, only for Eddie to complain about mom needing to fix it.

"Your tie's crooked," the oldest Rogers son, Cliff, said as he turned Steve to look at him.

Vibrating from his giddiness, Steve attempted to stand still while his brother straightened his slim black tie. However, Steve couldn't repress how truly happy he was even if he wanted to. Today was _the_ day. The day where Steve would no longer be a Rogers, but a Rumlow. And he couldn't wait.

Playfully, Cliff harshly shook Steve as he reminded, "Calm down."

"I can't," Steve grinned, bouncing on the balls of his feet, only causing Cliff to fondly roll his eyes. Steve amended, "I don't want to."

"I know," Cliff smirked, looking over Steve to make sure that he was presentable. It was reminiscent of school dances where Cliff would do just this to make sure that Steve didn't make an even bigger fool of himself. After all, Steve didn't need any help in that department; his dance moves did that for him.

Before anything else could be said, a knock gained Steve's attention. Immediately, his gaze snapped to the opening door to find his best man, Natasha. Feigning caution, she peeked through her fingers and teased, "Everyone decent?"

"Duh," Eddie answered for them, earning a large smile from Natasha when she dropped her hand to shoot at Eddie with a perfectly manicured finger-gun. And since Eddie had known Natasha his whole life, he played along and pretended to cover a chest wound, effectively crushing the ranunculus boutonniere.

"Edison Joseph," Joe sighed exasperatedly, running his hand over his face.

"Sorry!" Eddie instantly apologized as he straightened out his suit jacket.

"It's okay," Joe reassured as he tried to help fix the boutonniere because he knew that Sarah would have a fit if she found out that the boutonniere that she carefully crafted was crushed over something so avoidable.

As Natasha crossed the room, she let out a low whistle. Evaluating Steve to the point that he blushed, Natasha complimented, "Damn Stevie, you sure make a woman wanna get married."

Rolling his eyes the way he always did when he was complimented, Steve blushed and looked over Natasha's one shoulder floor-length black dress. When she noticed, she paused and changed her stance, so the thigh-high slit was more noticeable, exposing her shapely leg. Posing as Steve returned the compliment, "You're lookin' pretty good yourself, Nattie."

In that endearing, cocky way that Natasha had, she flipped her red curls off her shoulder and casually agreed, "I know."

Letting Nat's calm-confidence soothe him, Steve got a better control of his excitement and eagerly questioned, "Is it time?"

"Why else would I come bother you?" Natasha quirked a brow while flattening the collar of Steve's black suit jacket. Cheerfully, Natasha confirmed, "It's time."

A large grin split across Steve's face and he pulled Natasha in for a hug. He couldn't believe that it was finally time for him to become Mr. Steve Rumlow.


	2. Two

**Two:**

Heart racing, Steve allowed Natasha to lead him out of his changing room. In the hallway, they were greeted by the wonderfully flamboyant and refreshingly sarcastic wedding planner, Anthony Stark. In a snazzy black velvet suit, Anthony directed everyone to take their places:

Eddie first, with the rings.  
Cliff next, because even though he wasn't the best man didn't mean that Steve didn't want him there.  
Natasha, of course, taking her place in front of Steve. Making sure to give him a wink before she faced the front.  
Then, finally, Steve and Joe took up the rear.

"Okay," Anthony quietly stated, gesturing for his crew to open the doors. Nodding at Eddie, he reassured him, "You're gonna do great, kid. Now, go!"

Taking in a deep breath, Steve peeked around Cliff's broad frame to see Eddie take his first steps down the aisle. Stomach knotting in his excitement, Steve stood straight again. Making sure to push his broad shoulders back in his attempt to exude the confidence that barely stayed with him for long.

As Cliff took his steps, Steve linked his arm with Joe's. Finding comfort as Joe covered his hand with his own, just like when he was a kid. It was everything that Steve adored about his dad and more. Everything that grounded him and gave him the confidence to soar.

Looking over at Joe, Steve could see the tears building in the rim of his eyes and he told his dad, "I love you."

"I love you, too," Joe replied, giving his hand a soothing squeeze. All the while, being the one to take the first step after Natasha.

Exhaling all his jitters, Steve faced forward. Anthony nodded at him with a large, proud smile, encouraging Steve to keep walking. So, that was what he did. Keeping to the easy, calm, romantic tune of the string quartet, Steve walked down the aisle.

Lacking rhythm as usual, and over-eager as always, Steve's steps started to speed. Joe squeezed his hand again, reminding Steve to take his time. Quietly, Joe confirmed, "This isn't a race."

Nodding, Steve slowed his pace once more and gave Joe's bicep a soft press. The smile never leaving his face as he finally reached the alter. Seeing Brock standing there with that self-assured smirk that never failed at making Steve's knees go weak.

With a kiss to his temple, Joe took a step back to join Sarah in the front row. Steve could only give them a quick smile as he joined his love. This was everything that Steve had ever dreamed. Stained glass windows softening the harshness of Brock's stature and making Steve want to pull him in and kiss him all the more.

"I love you," Steve mouthed before the service fully started. In mute reply, Brock smirked before averting his attention to the pastor. And since Brock turned his attention to the man, so did Steve. Always thankful for the subtle ways that Brock reminded him of the world around them.

"'A loving partner is a safe shelter,'" the pastor started, "'Whoever finds one has found a rare treasure. A loving partner is something beyond price, there is no measuring your worth. A loving partner is a life-saving remedy, and those who respect their Lord find true love. For as a person is, so is their loved one.'"

Pressing his lips together in an attempt to calm his utter happiness, Steve gave Brock's hands a giddy squeeze. Especially once the pastor turned towards Brock and instructed, "Repeat after me. 'I, Brock Henry Rumlow.'"

Taking in a deep breath, Brock started, "I, Brock Henry Rumlow."

"'Take you, Steven Grant Rogers,'" the pastor continued.

"Take," Brock paused.

"'Take,'" the pastor encouraged, "'Take you, Steven Grant Rogers.'"

Brock nodded, clearing his throat, "Take, take you… Steve… take you, Steve --"

Steve leaned forward, urging Brock to continue. Already knowing exactly what to say because he had been waiting for this day, this _moment_ , since he was a kid. Back when he would take Nat's Ken Doll and dress him up in a dapper suit to re-enact this very scenario. Sometimes, looking at Brock reminded Steve of those early days. Brock's jaw cut so handsomely and his shoulders just broad enough while his abs made Steve drool --

"I can't," Brock said instead.

Sure that he was just imagining things, Steve blinked a couple of times, "What?"

Brock lowered his voice and repeated, "I can't. I can't do this."

Leaning closer, Steve asked, "What are you talking about?" Feeling his anxiety growing, Steve's voice rose a couple of octaves, "This really isn't funny."

"I'm not joking," Brock assured. Brock shook his head and gave the room a side glance as he clarified, "This… isn't what I… want."

All the air escaped Steve. Sucked right out of him like a vacuum as Brock removed his hands from Steve's grasp and started down the aisle. Frozen, Steve could only stand there. Only able to watch Brock from the corner of his eye as his future came crashing down around him like a baseball shattering through a window.


	3. Three

**Three:**

"Where is he going?" Natasha questioned Brock's best man, Jack.

Just like that, Steve's legs gave out on him. Tightly clutching onto her petite frame in hopes that she could hold his larger frame steady. But she couldn't hold his dead weight, so Cliff stepped in.

As soon as those strong arms were wrapped around him, Steve turned towards him and buried his face in the broad shoulders that he had once been envious of until he grew into his own. Cliff's strong frame had held Steve through many heartaches and long crying fests. But this was different. Steve felt as though his heart had turned to dust. Evaporated right out of his chest.

Over the roar of blood rushing through his veins, Steve could hear Anthony telling their guests to, "Please wait patiently." Cliff was then moving Steve, getting him to walk back down the aisle, out of sight.

"Steve?" Anthony hesitated, "Do you want to continue with the reception anyway?"

Sniffling, Steve pulled away from Cliff's suit and looked over at the man who helped him plan this day to be a dream. Unfortunately, it had turned into a nightmare. But Steve reasoned, "Might as well. Already paid for everything. No sense in wasting it."

"Okay," Anthony nodded and spoke into his headset, "We're still on." Then, turning around, he quietly said, "Get rid of anything that mentions Rumlow."

"Hey," Cliff placed his hands on either side of Steve's face to regain his attention, "You can just go home if you want. No one will blame you for ducking out."

Not even giving it a passing thought, Steve explained, "Can't. All his stuff is there."

That seemed to be answer enough as Cliff didn't push the conversation further. Which, Steve was thankful for. Of course, all Steve wanted to do was crawl into bed and stay there for the rest of the century, he knew that he couldn't. Knew that even if Brock didn't go there, all his stuff was there. And Steve couldn't take that right now.

"Ya know," Natasha started, rubbing soothing circles along his back, "If I knew that you wouldn't be the one to deal with the body, I'd kill him. Ya know, once you get your license. For you, I'd kill him."

Startling a giggle out of him, Steve turned towards Natasha and wrapped her up in his arms. Giving her cheek a kiss, Steve genuinely questioned, "What would I do without you?"

Remorsefully, Natasha answered, "Probably not be heartbroken, for starters."

Nat was the one who encouraged Steve to take that leap with Brock. But today wasn't her fault. _It's not yours, either_ , Steve tried to remind himself. Only, it felt half-assed, at most.

"At least the cake will be good," Natasha nonchalantly supplied as she herded him towards the back of the church. "Barnes' Bakery is the best. And you had it shipped in from Brooklyn, so you know it'll taste good. Taste like home."

Numbly, Steve nodded; agreeing. She herded him all the way through the parking lot to her car. Making sure to feign excitement and turn his body just slightly towards her as they passed the town that was appropriately decorated for the newlyweds. Steve's heart broke just a little bit more.

Although Steve had sobbed in the church, he was surprised to find that the tears were still streaming down his face when Natasha opened the passenger door for him. Wiping away his silent, hot tears, Natasha confirmed, "You say the word, and I'll hide you away at my house. We'll spend the whole night stuffing our face with cake and watch poorly re-enacted paranormal shows that you love so much."

 _That's not how this was supposed to go_ , floated into Steve's mind. Despite him thinking, _this wasn't how I wanted to spend my honeymoon_ , Steve found himself nodding at Nat's suggestion.

Easing Steve into the passenger seat of her black 2013 Lexus ES hybrid, she continued, "You say the word, I'll pack the whole cake up, so we'll be the only ones to eat it. I swear, I could live off of Barnes' bakery. Biggest mistake was leaving Brooklyn for…"

Pulling the seat belt across his frame, Steve was only half-aware that Natasha was still talking. Instead, Steve kept his gaze out the windshield where guests, dressed in their best wedding attire, hurried to their vehicles. Only then did Steve realize that it was raining.

He had always heard that rain on a wedding day was good luck.

Guess they were wrong.

Natasha talked the entire drive to the hotel where the reception was supposed to take place. Where the reception was still taking place sans the wedding. Steve clenched his jaw as his mind flooded with images of how it was _supposed_ to happen.

They were supposed to gaze lovingly into each other's eyes as they recited their vows. Brock was supposed to affectionately slide the 14k yellow gold band onto his finger. Steve was supposed to give Brock's knuckle a kiss where his matching band was supposed to be. The pastor was supposed to announce them as lawfully wedded and encourage them to kiss one another, sealing their promise.

They were supposed to hold hands as they rushed down the aisle; exiting as husbands. Their friends and families were supposed to cheer as they did so. Flower petals were supposed to rain down over them because petals were better than rice. Anthony was supposed to congratulate them while the photographer, James Rhodes, took the most perfect pictures that they would hang around their apartment.

They were supposed to enter the hotel ballroom after their guests. The guests were supposed to greet them with applauds after The Best DJ In The Wedding Circuit, Valkyrie, introduced them as Mr. and Mr. Rumlow. Valkyrie was supposed to follow the schedule that Anthony gave her when speeches would be given and when their first dance as husbands was going to take place.

They were supposed to spend the whole night eating good food and enjoying the company of those who loved them before heading off to the honeymoon suite. The honeymoon suite that was supposed to have cliché flower petals from Rogers' Garden that were hand-picked by Sarah, herself, scattered around the bed. The suite that was supposed to have a jacuzzi tub and be surrounded by candles. The suite that was supposed to have the fluffy bath robes that Steve personally picked out with _Mr. Rumlow_ on the back in gold thread that Nat personally delivered when she set the suite up with Cliff's wife, Julie.

They were supposed to be happy.


	4. Four

**Four:**

"Real sorry about this, Stevie," Great Aunt Ruth said, giving Steve a tight hug.

"You're a good man," Pop Pop reassured, "You'll find a fella good enough for you eventually."

"Never liked Brock," Second Cousin Ina stated as she finished off her Long Island Ice Tea. Probably not her first one of the night either.

Not being able to take any more, "support," for the time-being, Steve ducked into the kitchen. Leaning against the closed door, he let out a shaky breath and ran his hand through his golden hair. Steve thought it was bad when it was just Natasha trying to be helpful. He quickly realized that it was ten times worse when it was his entire side of the guest list doing so. The other half -- Brock's half -- not even showing up.

 _So much for the, "choose a seat, not a side," sign_ , Steve bitterly thought while running his hand over his typically clean-shaven face.

"Hey, man," a male voice cracked as it approached Steve. Nervously, he told Steve, "I don't think you're supposed to be back here. Like, I don't think it's allow--"

"Pete," Anthony called.

Removing his hand from his face, Steve watched as the younger guy -- a kid, really -- hurried over to the godsend wedding planner. Quietly, Anthony must have explained things to the waiter because soon enough, Pete was looking at him with the same remorse that everyone else had been giving him. Which was just _fan-fucking-tastic_.

Rubbing his hand over his face again, Steve tried to not cry. Again. He had been doing far too much crying today. And not the good kind. The rip-my-heart-out-it'll-hurt-less kind. Which was the kind that Steve tried to avoid as much as possible.

"Cake?" Someone asked.

Brows furrowing, Steve removed his hand and looked up at the man. Despite his heartbreak, he could see that the brunet standing in front of him was attractive. A casual observation that Steve probably would've noticed whether today had gone as planned or...

"What?" Steve questioned trying to piece this moment together as much as his fatigued and saddened mind could do.

The guy gave him a small smile and repeated, "Cake?" When Steve still just stood there staring at him, he continued talking, "It's really the only way I know how to comfort someone. To feed them. Usually sweets. Sometimes bread. I blame genes for it. Passed down from bubbe to bubbe until finally making its way to... me."

Not sure what to make of the ramblings, Steve just stood there. Still confused, brow still heavily furrowed as he just blinked at the man.

"I'm Bucky, by the way," he introduced, clearing his throat as he gestured over to the three tier wedding cake. Vanilla bean, blueberry, and lemon with light vanilla bean buttercream icing and the option to add fresh strawberries and blueberries. Just like Steve had ordered. "I made the cake."

Noting that the grooms cake topper was removed from the top, Steve nodded, introducing himself, "Steve."

Bucky winced at that, as though he knew what had happened. Which, he probably did. Anthony, after all, had made sure that nothing that featured Brock at all was used. Made sure to inform the staff so they wouldn't congratulate Steve on something that didn't happen.

Silently, Steve quirked a brow at Bucky, challenging him. Schooling his expression, Bucky asked, "So, cake...? Or any kind of food?"

As if on cue, Steve's stomach let out a vicious grumble. He had been waiting to eat for a bit. Too excited before. Too sad after. Now his stomach decided to speak up, earning him a pleased smile from the baker.

"So," Bucky started as he headed for the furthest counter where the cake sat, "Do you want to cut into the cake now, or wait until everyone is finished with their meal?"

Glancing down, Steve looked over the menu. The very menu that he had worked so tediously with Anthony and the caterer, Pepper Potts, until it was perfect.

Looking it over now, Steve wasn't sure what he would want to eat. He had mainly chosen items for Brock. To make Brock happy.

So, Steve decided, "What the fuck. Let's go for the cake."

"Atta boy," Bucky encouraged as he grabbed the engraved knife. Holding it out for Steve, he asked, "You wanna do it?"

Steve shook his head and declined, "You're the professional."

Bucky smiled again and nodded as he turned his attention to the cake. Over his broad shoulder, he questioned, "Got a preference?"

About to say, "Vanilla," Steve paused, hearing Brock's taunting, _just like our sex life_. Blushing at himself while thinking, _no wonder Brock didn't want to marry you_ , Steve quietly answered, "Lemon."

"Excellent choice," Bucky reassured, cutting into the top layer of cake. Cutting a rather large piece, Bucky rambled, "All the flavors are good, but lemon is definitely my favorite. Especially when it's paired with a tart lemon buttercream. My sister -- my twin -- she teases me all the time. Goes old school with the teasing too. Saying that I should mar--"

Abruptly, Bucky stopped talking and tensed as he plated the piece. Handing it over to Steve, Steve finished the school-yard teasing, "If you love it so much, you should marry it."

"Yeah," Bucky nodded, blushing now. Looking up from beneath his lashes, Bucky apologized, "Sorry about..."

Not wanting to hear another apology for the rest of the year, Steve waved it off as he assured, "It's alright. Not _your_ fault."

"Not yours either," Bucky softly confirmed.

For a moment, the pair just stood there. Bucky looking over Steve and Steve dropping his gaze to the floor. Face burning under the brunet's eyes as he evaluated Steve. Especially when Bucky casually crossed his arms along his chest and leaned against the counter.

Shifting uncomfortably, Steve leaned against the opposite counter from Bucky's, and tried to focus on the cake. It was lightly frosted per Steve's request. He wasn't even sure just how many Naked Cakes he had pinned on Pinterest in his pre-wedding planning days. Meanwhile, his hands started shaking from holding the small black square plate. They were the ones that Steve had chosen for Brock. They weren't, "overly-feminine," and weren't, "too artistic." That was why Steve had chosen them. Not because _he_ liked them, but because he thought that --

"You're thinking too much," Bucky broke through Steve's thoughts.

Snapping his attention up, Steve noticed how Bucky was waiting for something. But his brain could only cycle through the past year like a load of white laundry with a red sock forgotten inside. Running over and over of what he could've done differently to make Brock stay.

"Can you just... try it?" Bucky asked, looking at the piece of cake. Fidgeting, Bucky tugged at the ill-fitting maroon chef jacket. It was obvious that it wasn't his. Steve was sure that even if he hadn't spotted the Hotel's logo on it, he would've known that it wasn't Bucky's. Looking as though he wanted to run his hand through his short hair -- but fighting it -- Bucky explained, "I never fully feel done with a cake until I know that the customer is satisfied with the end product."

So, Steve used the fork engraved with the date and cut a tiny portion off the slice. Mouth watering as he looked over the piece and popped it into his mouth. Through the sadness that was tainting the taste, Steve was positive, the sweet and tart tangoed into his taste buds. Closing his eyes at the pure bliss that the delightfully fluffy cake brought along with a nostalgia that Steve had never witnessed, Steve eagerly cut off another piece of the slice.

"So," Bucky started, causing Steve to open his eyes and direct his attention to the brunet. Bucky couldn't fight the grin that spread across his face like the sun breaking through clouds as he hoped, "Ya like it?"

"Yeah," Steve honestly answered. As a smile tugged at his own lips, Steve was pleasantly surprised to that he could, in fact, still smile despite his broken heart.


	5. Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter has some scenes of domestic violence. Not too graphic, but still might be a trigger.
> 
> Much love and appreciation  
> Minnie ❤❤❤

**Five:**

After everything died down and the guests started getting sloppy drunk, Steve decided that he wanted nothing more than to pass out in his bed. Sure, he fancied the thought of spending the evening in the honeymoon suite. But he'd forget that today had gone entirely different than he had ever imagined. Not even in his worst nightmares did he think _this_ would happen.

"You sure you don't want me to stay?" Natasha questioned, parked along the curb of Steve and Brock's apartment complex.

Knowing that Nat didn't care whether he sobbed, Steve decided against having an audience and confirmed, "I'm sure."

"Okay," Natasha finally relented. Giving Steve's hand a squeeze, she reminded, "Just text me and I'll race back over here."

A small smile tugged at his lips as he nodded, "Okay."

Running her hand through Steve's short blond hair, she gave his earlobe a little tug and said, "I love you."

"Love you, too, Nattie," Steve leaned over the middle console to hug his best friend. The one person who had always been there and would always be there.

As tears started building in his blue eyes again for the umpteenth time, Steve pulled away. Not wanting to make a bigger fool of himself than he already had that day. Even if it was only in front of Natasha.

Rushing just a bit, Steve nearly tripped over the edge of the car on his way out. Barely recovering when he slammed the door behind himself. Knowing that if he wasn’t having the Worst Day of His Life, Natasha would have yelled at him. That was possibly the only silver lining of the day. Well, that and the cake. The cake was good too.

Grabbing the boxes of leftover cake from the back, Steve told Natasha, “Text me when you get home,” and left for the complex.

“Good evening, Mr. Rum—“

“Rogers,” Steve corrected one of his neighbors, Happy, as he held the door open for him. His eyes turning glassy with unshed tears, “It’s still Rogers.”

“My apologies,” Happy stated, closing the door behind them as they entered the building.

“It’s alright,” Steve managed to get out. Swallowing his sorrow, he admitted, “Today just didn’t go as planned.”

Steve could hear the remorse in Happy’s voice as he said, “Hopefully tomorrow will be better.”

Entering the elevator, Steve forced a small smile as he agreed, “Hopefully.”

Thankfully, the elevator closed before anything else could be said and started swiftly moving towards his and Brock’s apartment. _What am I gonna do?_ Steve wondered. _Maybe we can work it out_. _Maybe this will just be a speed bump. Maybe we just needed to slow —_

The elevator doors opened to reveal Brock holding a cardboard box. Throat tight, Steve almost dropped the cake. Completely blindsided seeing the man he loved and wanted to spend the rest of his life with, standing there surrounded by his things.

"You're leaving?" Steve asked, hating the way his voice cracked.

Shifting the box, Brock sheepishly confirmed, "Yeah. Figured that you wouldn't want to… see me."

"Brock, I love you," Steve argued, stepping out of the elevator. When Brock took a step back, Steve's shoulders dropped like the world had fallen onto his shoulders. Steve assumed, "You don't love me."

"Stevie," Brock sighed in exasperation as he dropped the box in his arms to the top of a short pile beside him. Steve noticed that Brock had changed out of his suit. _Of course, he did_. _Why would he stay in it?_ Brock placed his hands on either side of Steve's face to make sure that Steve's attention was on him -- as if Steve's attention had ever been off him -- Brock said, "I _do_ love you."

Spotting the lie, Steve found that he couldn't even celebrate about seeing through Brock's words. Instead, the tears started to effortlessly spill over the rim of his eyes because he knew, "But."

"But," Brock accepted the prompt, "We're young. _Really young_ , Steve. Too young to make this decision with everything going on in our --"

"Then why did you propose?" Steve asked, sniffling like an explanation point.

"Because _you_ wanted me to!" Brock defended himself, dropping his hands from Steve's skin. He accused Steve, "If I hadn't, you would've left!"

"So, now _you're_ leaving?!" Steve's brows furrowed, ignoring the blame that Brock trying to place on him.

"Why would you want me to stay?" Brock's voice rose, clearly getting angry in his frustration.

"Because I love you!" Steve answered, just as loud. It should've been obvious. Steve loved Brock. "Why the fuck would I not want you to stay?"

"Because I'm never going to marry you!"

Almost like being sucker punched, the breath escaped Steve entirely. Stumbling, Steve's back hit the hallway wall and allowed his shaky legs to bring him down the wall until he sat on the floor. Brock wasn't going to marry him. They weren't going to work through this. Brock was never going to marry him. Brock had never intended to marry him.

_Because I'm never going to marry you!_

"Steve, get up!" Brock demanded, harshly grabbed onto Steve's biceps and pulled him off the floor while causing Steve to drop the boxes of leftover wedding cake. Immediately dropping Steve's arms and jumping back while kicking the cake off his shoes, he loudly complained, "God damn it, Steve! Look at what you did!"

_I'm never going to marry you!_

"Why can't you just be a man about this?!" Brock angrily questioned, placing a hand on the wall so he could wipe the splattered cake off his tan oxfords. Condescendingly, telling Steve, "It's not a big deal! We backed out before we could make an even bigger mis--"

The cake left Steve's hand and hit Brock's face before he could even think about throwing it. Brock clenched his jaw and his face grew red. The anger radiating from his frame to the point where Brock was practically vibrating with it.

Still shocked by the situation in general, but especially his recent actions, Steve stood there with wide eyes. Before he could even apologize, Brock's fist slammed against his left eye. An uncomfortable and audible crack reverberated around them, too loud to Steve's ears. Before he could react and defend himself, Brock's left fist crashed against Steve's abdomen, forcing the little air that he had inhaled, out.

"You're so fucking stupid! How could you not know that this wasn't what I want?!" Brock asked as he connected a well-placed hit to just beneath Steve's ribs, aggressively pushing him up against the wall.

This wasn't the first time that the pair's arguments had gotten physical. But the other times was nothing like this. The extent of which being shoving and pushing because Steve liked to cool down before he said something hurtful while Brock wanted answers then and there. Usually, those times would evolve into passionate makeup sex where Brock would possessively claim that no one else could ever love Steve the way he did.

And Steve had believed him. Like an idiot. _A fucking idiot_.

When the shock finally wore off, Steve used all his strength to shove Brock off him. Thankful for all the time he spent at the gym. All the muscles he had gained were to turn Brock on. Now Steve decided to use them to defend himself.

However, just a shove wasn't enough. Brock was infuriated and came back swinging. With each punch that landed, made Brock's words stick, " _You_ handled the planning! _You_ picked everything out! Fuck, Steve, how many more hints did you fucking --"

"I love you!" Steve yelled, blocking the right hook to his face with the back of his forearm. Giving Brock another shove, Steve conceded, "I thought that you loved me too."

Brock slipped on the cake and he caught himself on the stack of boxes. Jostling the tower as he steadied himself. Panting, Brock's expression twisted into one of disgust as he confessed, "I did. But you've changed. And I'm done."

Weak-kneed, Steve slumped against the wall. Blood mixing with his tears, he watched Brock leave. Walking out with more than just his things; walking away with Steve's heart.


	6. Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: Depictions of embalming a dead body

**Six:**

**Six Years Later**

Carefully, Steve looked over the older woman's body. Making sure that he didn't miss any spots while cleaning the fragile frame. Once he was positive that he hadn't, Steve moved onto massaging the body.

Four years after getting his license and after countless bodies he had prepared since, Steve still found himself blushing when it came to this particular step. Massaging the major muscle groups in an attempt to loosen the joints and break up the rigor mortis. _All part of the job_ , Steve reminded himself.

To ease his own discomfort, Steve started talking aloud, "Your family said that you liked to go dancing. That sounds like it would've been fun."

Pausing, as if the woman would reply, Steve moved from her right leg to her left. Continuing, Steve shared, "I took some dance lessons a while back. Thought that it'd be nice to have some moves during my first dance. Instead, I ended up stepping on his toes at the lessons. Never got to see if I worked better under a spotlight."

 _Move on_ , Steve reminded himself. Taking her left arm, Steve cleared his throat, "I bet you would've been a patient partner. Wouldn't mind if a fella stepped on your toes if he was too busy gazing into your eyes."

 _Good god, man_ , Steve chastised, as he massaged her fingers. Having been told by her family that she never took off her wedding ring, Steve lingered on the specific finger for a moment. It didn't sit there now and Steve's chest clenched. Knowing that if he had his ring and the promise that went with it, he'd never remove them either. Sure, they were just getting polished, but Steve still felt a twinge in his heart for her.

Although, reminding himself that she had lived a long, happy life, made that tightness in his chest ease. Her family reminiscing about how much she loved her late husband and how much he had loved her in return. Hearing the stories about the impressive life that the woman had led was nice too. Made massaging the rest of her easier. Even going so far as to getting lost in his thoughts and almost surprising himself when that step was completed.

As Steve moved onto setting her features, the soft, calming music that he usually streamed from the Bluetooth speaker switched over to something techno. The upbeat rhythm being the only warning that he got.

Pulling out a fresh, crisp white sheet, Steve had just managed to lay it over the body before Eddie peeked his head inside the room. Smirking over at the teen, Steve greeted, "How's my favorite dog walker?"

Shrugging a narrow shoulder, Eddie quickly glanced at the body before averting his gaze away. Voice cracking thanks to puberty, Eddie teased, "If I'm your favorite, does that mean you're gonna give me a raise?"

"A raise?" Steve good-humoredly scoffed as he grabbed two plastic eye caps and bringing them over to the woman. Lifting up one of the closed eye lids, Steve slid the cap in between the eye and lid before replying, "I think that twenty dollars a day, for you to walk Vinnie once, is far more than generous."

Catching Eddie rolling his eyes, Steve shook his head as he moved onto the woman's other eye. Not missing Eddie muttering, "I get your groceries too."

"Not every day," Steve argued, "And I pay for the groceries."

After a moment hesitation, Eddie relayed, "Dad and Cliff are setting up the parlor."

Walking around to get the mouth-former, Steve teased, "They yell at you for not spacing the chairs exactly three inches from each other?"

"I wish," Eddie muttered.

Pausing with the thin wire in his hands, Steve studied Eddie. No longer the little kid that Steve would carry around on his shoulders. Even though he was at that awkward time between child and adult, Steve couldn't help but still see him as a kid. Especially with the sprinkle of freckles around his face and the messy auburn hair.

"I got a D in anatomy," Eddie quietly admitted, shuffling his feet from the other side of the cracked door.

Threading the wire through the upper and lower jaws, securing the mouth closed, Steve questioned, "I thought you had a tutor."

"I do," Eddie happily confirmed. Steve quirked a brow at him, and Eddie blushed, "She's really pretty."

"Eddie," Steve sighed, shaking his head and not being able to contain the small smile tugging at his lips. Moving onto moisturizing the woman's face, Steve suggested, "Maybe you should get a… less pretty… tutor."

"I," Eddie paused, "I'm planning on asking her to the Spring Formal."

"Yeah?" Steve couldn't help but grin at that as he lifted his mask. A subtle sign that he was going to start the embalming. Subtle, but effective, as Eddie closed the door.

First, inserting the drainage tube towards the heart, Steve glanced over to triple check that he had the embalming machine held the liquid. Then, taking the cannula and inserting it into the carotid artery. Using the small forceps, Steve clamped the artery to restrict the flow and locked the cannula in place.

Once everything was placed the way that Steve liked, he turned towards the embalming machine and flipped the switch, allowing the machine to distribute the fluid throughout the body. When Steve had first started working, it had been strange to see the veins bulging as the formaldehyde cocktail flowed throughout the body. Now though, Steve eased when he saw it happen; knowing that it was working the way it was supposed to.

Just another day at the office as Steve started washing the body again and massaging the stiffing limbs. This was normal. This was something that Steve could focus on that kept his mind off anything and everything else.

Tenderly, Steve took care of the body. Gave them the treatment that they deserved. The kind of treatment that he would want if he was in their place. It was the least that Steve could do. And he did it well.


	7. Seven

**Seven:**

When he was done, Steve placed the woman into her designated refrigeration cabinet and wiped down everything to sterilize the room. With that done, Steve removed the protective scrubs, apron, gloves, and mask that he wore over his clothing. After placing those items in the disposal, he took off his wellingtons and slipped into his sneakers.

Leaving the morgue, Steve ran his hand through his shaggy hair. Finding Eddie still in the hallway, leaning against the wall, waiting for him. Wrapping his arm around Eddie's narrow shoulders, he led the way back upstairs and offered, "Ya know, I could help you with your anatomy class."

Before Eddie could protest -- the way that Steve knew he would -- Steve feigned thought as he ran his hand over his trimmed beard, "I know I'm not very pretty, but I do know the human body."

"No offense," Eddie looked up at Steve, "But I think I'd rather fail entirely than have to look at your ugly mug."

"Ouch," Steve chuckled and grabbed at his chest, over his heart. Pulling Eddie closer, Steve teased, "Just 'cause you got all the looks in the family, doesn't mean ya gotta be mean about it."

All Eddie could do was giggle at that. Steve didn't mind though. He led them over to the larger parlor room where Cliff and Joe were still setting up. Almost done, and attempting not to trip over Cliff and Julie's four year old daughter, Birdie, as she danced around the room singing a mashup of _Ring Around the Rosie_ and _Hot Cross Buns_.

As soon as she spotted Steve though, she took off like a shot and Steve effortlessly lifted her petite frame into his arms. Birdie wrapped her tiny arms around Steve's neck and gave his cheek a kiss, only for her to pull back. Playfully, she scrunched her face and told Steve, "You need a haircut!"

"You sound like Mimi," Steve teased, leaning his forehead against hers.

"Good," Birdie giggled conspiratorially before holding a finger up to her lips, letting Steve know that it was a secret.

Directing his attention to the oldest Rogers son, Steve asked Cliff, "Want me to watch her for you?"

"If you could," Cliff agreed, sighing in frustration when he tripped over his own feet, nearly falling on his ass.

"Easy," Joe comforted, steadying Cliff by the elbow.

"Okay," Steve situated Birdie on his hip and looked over at Eddie, "Ya gonna come spend time with your favorite big brother?"

"He already is," Cliff called while Eddie took the invitation to leave.

Quietly, Steve teased Eddie, "Celebrate before your impending grounding?"

Rolling his eyes, Eddie shoved at Steve's broad shoulder and grabbed his bookbag as he followed Steve out of the house. Forgoing the vehicles, Steve decided that they could all use the fresh air, and he started leading them downtown.

"Where are we going?" Birdie asked, tucking Steve's blond hair behind his ear.

"Sam said that there's a cake shop nearby," Steve explained. "I think it's new."

Eddie's brows furrowed as he questioned, "What's the Batter With You? Because that's been open for years."

"I'm four!" Birdie cheerfully exclaimed, holding up four fingers and shoving them in Steve's face.

Chuckling, Steve took Birdie's tiny hand in his and gave it a kiss before placing it on his chest. All the while, Eddie argued, "Not _four_. _For_. Like, _for_ -ever."

"I'm four!" Birdie loudly repeated, leaning across Steve to stick her tongue out at Eddie.

"Jesus," Eddie rolled his eyes and looked up at Steve to ask, "Was this what it was like when I was her age?"

"Pretty much," Steve confirmed, earning an exaggerated groan of annoyance from Eddie. Steve chuckled again as Eddie apologized for being a kid. Not that Steve minded. Just like he hoped that Eddie wouldn't mind once Birdie was his age.

As the two continued to argue though, Steve decided to change the subject, "What are you gonna get when we get there?"

"Birthday cake!" Birdie exclaimed.

Chuckling again, Steve asked, "A birthday cake? Why a birthday cake?"

"So, then I'll be five," Birdie explained, holding up a hand in front of Steve's face.

"You're silly," Steve teased while Eddie muttered, "That's not how that works."

Playfully, Steve elbowed Eddie and asked, "What about you, Mr. Grump?"

Birdie really giggled at that and Eddie rolled his eyes again, even though a grin stretched at his mouth as he mocked, "A birthday cake."

"You can't have a birthday cake, because _I'm_ having a birthday cake! Uncle Steve, tell Uncle Eddie that he can't have a birthday cake," Birdie insisted, harshly grasping onto Steve's broad shoulder.

Rolling his eyes, Steve appeased, "I'm sure there will be other flavors to get. You might not even want a birthday cake."

Crossing her arms, Birdie deflated and pushed her lower lip out in an impressive pout. Thankfully, Steve wouldn't have to deal with it for long as they finally reached the cake shop. As Eddie held open the door for Steve, he made sure to teasingly poke at Birdie to cheer her up. Despite them fighting like siblings, Eddie always tried to make things right with Birdie. Steve swore that Eddie hated when Birdie was upset more than anyone else, and it warmed his heart.


	8. Eight

**Eight:**

Entering the quaint shop, Steve's gaze roamed over interior. How comfy the bench running along the wall to his right seemed. How inviting the small three-chairs tables were. How bright the counter and display cases were across the narrow walkway on his left was. It was oddly nostalgic in a way that catching a scent of something directly tied to a specific memory from childhood but not being able to fully recall it.

Eddie crossed over to the display case, so Steve decided to join him. The treats beautifully crafted in a mouthwatering way. As a deep voice floated over to him from the back though, Steve found himself preoccupied. Enough so, that Birdie started kicking at Steve's sides. Squirming in his arms in her attempts to get down until Steve finally placed her on the ground.

"They're so pretty," Birdie said, leaning forward and placing her face up against the glass of the display case. Turning to look up at Steve, she asked, "Can I have them all?"

"I can't leave the shop to drop them off. Teddy was supposed to pick them up," the voice said from the back.

"Uncle Steve," Birdie tugged on Steve's hand.

The door leading to the kitchen cracked, revealing a sliver of the man and the phone that was being held to his ear. Letting the door swing close again, he told the person, "I gotta go."

As the door swung open again, an attractive man rushed out from the back and greeted, "Sorry about that."

"It's okay," Steve reassured, trying to place the familiar man. However, looking over the long brown hair that was carefully twisted back into a bun at the nape of his neck and the broad shoulders clothed with a light purple shirt with the shop's logo, Steve wasn't sure if he had ever even seen the man before.

A soft smile tugged at his mouth as he let out a sigh of relief and finished washing his hands, "Thanks."

Blushing, Steve waved it off and quickly looked down at Birdie, so the man couldn't see just how flustered he was. Especially when Steve was positive that the man was well-aware how much he was blushing when the smile was evident in his voice, "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Princess cake!" Birdie exclaimed, hopping up and down beside Steve while pointing at a purple frosted cupcake decorated with pink sugar.

"A princess cake?!" The man asked, equally enthused as he looked from Birdie to Steve. Questioning, "Like a birthday cake? Because I don't have any of those lying around right now, but I could whip one up for you in a couple of days."

"No, that's okay," Steve said, even though Birdie was agreeing with the brunet. Steve placed a hand on top of Birdie's black hair to calm her and clarified, "We're just getting cupcakes. Kind of celebrating."

"Yeah?" He grinned, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter.

That was what clicked in Steve's mind. Before he could stop himself, he assumed, "We've met before. Bucky, right?"

"Right," Bucky confirmed, brows furrowing as he looked over Steve, trying to place him. Red coloring his high cheekbones, Bucky admitted, "I'm sorry, I don't… I'm really bad with faces and names…"

"It was just one time," Steve nonchalantly explained, "I ordered a cake… But it was at Barnes' Bakery."

"Okay," Bucky nodded, pressing his lips together as he thought. Really milling it over as he conceded, "I'd bet I'd remember if you told me the cake. I'm better at cakes."

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Steve debated for a moment. It was one of the worst days of Steve's life. But it was a good cake, so Steve decided to describe it, "Three tier. Vanilla bean, blueberry, and lemon. Light vanilla frosting with --"

"Fresh strawberries and blueberries," Bucky finished fondly. Nodding, he smiled remembering the cake. Then, he must have remembered the rest because his expression dropped as his eyes grew wide and he apologized, "I'm sorry. You were clean shaven -- that's not the point… I'm so sorry. I'm awful at first impressions. I always put both feet in my mouth and fall off a cliff."

Startling a chuckle out of Steve, he comforted, "Technically, this is the second time we've met."

"You're right," Bucky agreed, his shoulders easing down from his ears where they had been steadily lifting with his shame. Pushing himself away from the back counter and towards the back of the display case, Bucky asked, "So, a princess cake?"

Birdie nodded as she looked over all the pretty desserts. Swirled icing and multicolored sprinkles filled her line of sight and she looked over them all. Steve glanced up at the menu on the wall. The prices were the best out of all the cake shops that Steve had been to, but he was vaguely aware that he'd probably order a dozen even if they weren't.

"Guess you really are celebrating," Bucky commented, getting the correct container, he said, "You can pick any of the flavors."

Steve nodded, looking over the menu. Instantly, his brows started furrowing as he looked over the names. Smirking, Steve asked, "You come up with the names?"

Proudly, Bucky confirmed, "I sure did."

Steve nodded, attempting to bite back his grin, but he couldn't. Especially not with such ridiculous names. Chewing on his lower lip, Steve thought about which one he wanted. Figuring that he'd let Birdie and Eddie pick the other eleven.

"So, what are you three celebrating anyway?" Bucky asked, easily putting on a pair of gloves.

Eddie started blushing, so Steve decided not to embarrass his brother further as he said, "Oh, uh, just… it's Friday."

Chuckling, Bucky corrected, "It's Thursday."

"Oh," Steve's own cheeks turned red.

The bell over the door chimed then, and Steve moved closer to the counter, herding Birdie and Eddie with him, out of the way. Bucky simply looked over at the person and accused, "You're late."

"Blame them," a girl pointed over her shoulder. Only, Steve didn't see anyone behind her.

Reminding himself that it was rude to stare at someone, Steve redirected his attention. Out of the corner of his eye though, Steve caught the teenager exaggeratedly fanning herself while gesturing at him, causing Bucky to blush. Causing Steve to blush too. Especially once Bucky gave her a pointed look to make her stop.

While the girl walked around the counter, the door opened again. A woman that had the same dark hair as the girl and Bucky rushed into the cake shop. With a toddler on her hip and a protruding abdomen, she walked around the three Rogers.

"Tibby said to blame you for her being late," Bucky told the woman.

"Yeah, well, you try potty training a two year old while also having a fetus tap dancing on your bladder," she answered on her way towards the restroom, calling out over her shoulder, "Then, we can talk."

Before anything else could be said, the phone rang. The teen, Tibby, grabbed it off the wall and answered, "Nothing's the batter with me; what's the batter with you? Oh, hi, Dad."

Smiling, Steve looked over at Bucky who was following Birdie and Eddie's directions of which cupcakes they wanted. Ordering the cupcakes with Eddie's selections on one side of the container and Birdie's on the other. The stark difference between the two sides with Eddie's consisting of more plainly decorated while Birdie's being colorful, perhaps obnoxious, earned a soft giggle from Steve.

Holding out the phone towards Bucky, Tibby relayed, "He's calling you, 'James.'"

Expression twisting into one of a teenager caught sneaking in after curfew, Bucky motioned for them to swap tasks. Handing the phone to her brother, Tibby quickly rewashed her hands, and slipped on a pair of gloves. With a smile that showed off purple braces, she greeted, "Hi."

"Long day?" Steve asked, getting a bony elbow to his ribs from Eddie.

"Thursdays are always long," Tibby answered, "Debate club and gymnastics make sure of that."

Steve nodded as if he knew. Which, he didn't. Steve had been a shy kid, no matter how much his family teased him for sticking his nose into other's business. What was he supposed to do? Let bullies roam freely and hurt kids who couldn't stick up for themselves? Even now, looking back and realizing that maybe it wasn't the smartest thing to do when he was barely a hundred pounds soaking wet, Steve couldn't find any reason to have not done it.

As Tibby started placing more cupcakes into the container, she looked over at Eddie. Looking as though she was trying to place him, she asked, "You're Fred, right? Daisy is tutoring you?"

"Eddie," he quietly corrected before confirming, "And yeah."

"Eddie," Tibby repeated, trying to put that to memory. Glancing at the cupcakes, she beamed up at the trio, "Wait. Does _this_ mean that you passed the test?!"

Sheepishly, Eddie looked up at Steve. Almost as though he was seeing how much he could get away with. Turning back to Tibby, Eddie said, "Not exactly."

"Bummer," Tibby confirmed empathetically. Glancing at Steve, she said, "With a dozen you get one free. You want anything?"

"Um," Steve started, glancing at Bucky before he could even stop himself. Quickly turning the motion from looking over at Bucky into looking at the menu on the wall instead, Steve asked, "What's your favorite?"

" _Lost a Bet to My Sister,_ is pretty good," the woman answered as she exited the restroom, holding the little girl's hand. Rubbing her hand over her baby bump, she suggested, " _I.O.U._ is good too. I've been craving, _Hope You're Happy Becca_."

"She's only suggesting those because they were made specifically for her," Tibby stage whispered.

Steve smirked and found those specific cupcakes on the board. There, among many others, was the list of vegan gluten-free cupcakes. Reading what each cupcake consisted of, he finally decided on, " _You Did That On Purpose_."

"One of my favorites," Bucky said, placing the phone on the stand. The toddler pulled away from her mother, Becca, and held her hands above her head, which Bucky gladly accepted as he lifted her onto his hip. He told Steve, "It's one of Fran's favorites too."

"Lemon's the best," Steve reasoned with a shrug. His heart stuttering when Bucky widely grinned at him.

Playfully narrowing his eyes at Steve, Bucky teased, "Should've opened with that. I would've remembered you right away."


	9. Nine

**Nine:**

"So," Eddie started, carrying the large brown paper bag of cupcakes and the specially made peanut butter and pumpkin cupcakes garnished with a tiny dog bone called, _pupcakes_.

Wishing he had brought some wipes with him since Birdie's light brown face was covered in purple frosting from the Cupcake of the Day. It probably wasn't his smartest decision as the frosting was also smeared over the front of her pastel tie-dye shirt and yellow overalls. The shirt probably wouldn't be an issue, but the overalls: yikes on trikes, Steve wasn't going to hear the end of giving Birdie cupcakes before dinner and ruining --

"He was nice," Eddie continued when Steve didn't say anything.

Steve, simply being too preoccupied with cleaning his niece up before handing her over to her parents, didn't quite get where Eddie was going with this. That, however, caught Steve's attention. Stopping his attempt at using a napkin damp from his saliva to wipe the stain off of Birdie's face, he narrowed his eyes suspiciously at Eddie. Agreeing, "Yes, he was."

Biting back his grin, Eddie swung the bag a bit as he prompted, "Attractive, too."

Rolling his eyes, Steve sighed in his ever-lasting exasperation concerning this particular subject. It was something that Steve loathed the most about being a 28 year old single man. Actually being single, Steve could handle. Being set up with friends of friends on blind dates, Steve couldn't help but get prickly at. Over the many times this conversation had been brought up over the years, he had come to expect it from Cliff, who only wanted Steve to be as happy as he was in his own marriage. To expect it from Nat, who just wanted the best for her best friend and eventual maid of honor. But to have it from Eddie now, too?

Switching Birdie to his other hip, to physically place her between himself and his kid brother, Steve said, "I'm not having this conversation with you."

"Why not?" Eddie scoffed. His brows furrowing as he claimed, "You talk about this stuff with Cliff."

"That's different," Steve argued, focusing on wiping the frosting that dyed Birdie's skin. Trying not to focus on his annoyance and the sneaky sense of betrayal -- which, admittedly, was ridiculous -- Steve gruffed, "It's different with you."

"Why's it different?" Eddie softly asked.

It took Steve a moment to realize that Eddie had stopped walking, and another moment for him to turn around. Backtracking, Steve shifted Birdie again. No longer caring about the four year old getting any frosting on his own t-shirt, Steve set all of his attention on Eddie.

Trying to mend his younger brother's bruised ego, Steve wrapped his arm around Eddie's narrow shoulders. Pulling him close, Steve started guiding them towards the funeral home. Sure, Eddie knew that Steve loved him. Just like he knew that Cliff loved him. But Steve was always worried about Eddie feeling left out. It had always been apparent that Steve and Cliff had a different kind of bond. With Steve and Cliff, they had grown up thick as thieves since they were only two years apart. By the time that Eddie had come along, Cliff was in high school and Steve wasn't far behind.

"You wanna know why I can't talk to you about this?" Steve questioned.

Eddie nodded and lightly mocked, "That's kinda why I asked."

Steve smirked and playfully tightened his grip on Eddie. Being entirely honest with his younger brother, Steve told him, "It's because I can't lie to you."

Now it was Eddie's turn to suspiciously study his brother. Silently mulling it over for a moment before he finally conceded, "That's still no reason. I tell you about Daisy."

"You do," Steve agreed, nodding.

"You haven't dated in so long," Eddie looked up at Steve speculatively, "Don't you want to be with someone?"

Conflicted, Steve stayed silent for a moment. It was a question that Steve thought about more times than he'd care to admit. Did Steve want to find someone? As his mind started leading him down the rabbit hole of memories from his time with Brock, he wasn't sure. It had taken two years after that awful last day together to discover that their relationship wasn't exactly healthy. It had taken another year to admit -- to himself -- that it was abusive. And a full six months after that to realize Brock leaving him at the alter was the best thing to happen to him.

"Eddie," Steve paused outside of the funeral home. Remembering his high school days where he thought that he'd _finally_ be happy if he was _lucky enough_ to be in a relationship. Remembering how wrong he had been once he had started dating Jasper Sitwell and was still unhappy, Steve questioned, "You know that you don't have to be with someone to be happy, right?"

Eddie's brows furrowed and he asked, "Are _you_ happy?"

As Steve thought, his own brows furrowed. If Steve was being completely honest with himself, he hadn't taken a lot of time to think about his own happiness. Too busy trying to keep busy, so he wouldn't have to think about it. Steve could think of particular days where he was happy. The birth of Birdie. Getting his mortuary license. The essay Eddie wrote in the fifth grade proclaiming Steve to be his role model. Sarah and Joe celebrating their 30th wedding anniversary. Becoming friends with Sam. Introducing Sam and Nat. Celebrating their engagement. Adopting his Weimaraner, Vinnie.

"Uncle Steve's happy," Birdie answered for him, flashing a wide grin and placing her hands on either side of Steve's face. Getting frosting in his beard as she seriously asked, "Are you?"

Removing one hand from his beard, Steve kissed her tiny hand and reassured, "Of course, sweetheart."

Birdie smiled at Steve, tugging at his heart strings while leaning in and pressing a sticky kiss to his pale cheek. When she pulled back, she noticed that the Rogers' Garden: Flower Shop purple company van parked in the driveway. Kicking at Steve's sides again, she wiggled until Steve finally set her down on the ground.

On only half-steady legs, Birdie took off for the house. Steve just shook his head as he fondly watched her race up the porch steps and was greeted by Julie. Birdie getting her light brown complexion and enviously silky black hair from Julie and her Thai heritage, while the only thing she got from Cliff was his height. Well, that and the way that she was able to cure all loneliness with an all-encompassing hug.

"I'm glad you're happy," Eddie sincerely said, smiling up at Steve, heading towards the house.

Steve nodded, grinning, "Me too." And the truth was, he was happy. In that moment, at least.


	10. Ten

**Ten:**

Growing up in a funeral home had some downsides. One of which being no one wanted to hang out in a house where deceased individuals were stored in the basement before being disposed of. Apparently, it was creepy. Something that Steve never quite understood. Perhaps if he hadn't grown up in a funeral home, he'd find it creepy too. But who really knew. And although Steve had had only one friend and had been just fine, he still hated seeing Eddie go through the same loneliness that he had.

After all, Steve had assumed that with the rise of people interested in true crimes and other morbid curiosities, they'd find it endearing.

Another thing that Steve hated? Not being able to sleep in. It had been one of Steve's biggest pet peeves growing up. So, when Eddie trudged down the family staircase to the kitchen in his pajamas only to grunt at Steve, he understood. Understood and he simply poured Eddie a steaming mug of coffee.

"Dad rope ya into working?" Steve questioned, taking a drink of his own coffee.

"Eh," Eddie noncommittally answered. His face scrunching up in disgust at the black coffee. Crossing the kitchen, he made sure to scratch Vinnie between his ears. Grabbing the Oreo coffee creamer from the fridge, he shuffled back over to his mug on the counter. Steve couldn't help but snicker a little.

Rolling his eyes, Eddie deadpanned, "Eat me."

"Ooh, you kiss your mama with that mouth?" Sam, the funeral home caterer, mocked as he entered the kitchen from the family entrance with a stack of casserole dishes.

"Nah," Eddie took a drink and playfully corrected, "I kiss _your_ mother with it."

Setting the dishes on the counter, Sam started unpacking the oven-ready prepared food. Amused, but feigning offense, "You better not be disrespecting Darlene Wilson like that."

"I don't hear her complaining." Always more arrogant when he was tired, Eddie simply shrugged a shoulder and suggested, "Better get used to calling me, 'Stepdad.'"

Pleasantly surprised by that, Sam turned to look over at Eddie. Appraising the teen as he nodded. Then, he looked at Steve and accused, "He gets this from you."

"Please," Steve scoffed. Hiding his smirk behind his floral mug, Steve argued, "He gets it from Nat."

Just staring at Steve for a moment as he thought of a rebuttal, Sam pursed his lips, finally conceded, "Fair."

Weakly raising his mug in victory, Eddie shuffled back over to the family staircase to head back upstairs. Not that anyone could blame him. With it barely being eight in the morning, Steve knew it wasn't an ideal time to wake up on a Saturday. Sam simply turned towards the wall oven, that had already preheated -- thanks to Steve. One of the upsides to morning services was Sam's French Toast Bake.

Just smelling a hint of the cinnamon sugar caused Steve's mouth to water. Exaggerating the whiff, Steve teased, "If you and Nat weren't perfect for each other, I'd propose right here and now."

"Well, you know what they say," Sam placed the glass dish into the oven, "Best way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

"That's funny, I thought the best way was on his dick."

Choking on his coffee, Steve looked over at the funeral cosmetologist, Wanda. Crossing her arms along her chest, she quirked a brow and smirked at Steve. Clearly amused by how coffee nearly shot out of Steve's nose at the surprise of her comment. Although Wanda had worked at the funeral home for years, she always found it funny how Steve reacted to crudeness. Which was probably why she kept making them.

Setting down his mug, Steve grabbed a napkin and started wiping his face and blowing his nose. Still coughing all the while, Steve cleared his throat and complimented Wanda, "You look nice."

"It's the same black dress I always wear," Wanda waved off, further entering the kitchen to pour herself some coffee. Giving Steve a side glance, she smirked, flattering Steve, "You look nice, as well."

"Thank you," Steve blushed, running his hand over his beard to smooth down the hair while also running his hand over his classic, plain navy-blue sweater. Dusting imaginary lint from his gray slacks, Steve asked, "When did you get here anyway?"

"An hour ago," Wanda answered, using the Oreo creamer as she questioned, "What about you?"

"Half hour ago," Steve took a careful drink of his coffee. Gesturing over to Vinnie, Steve teased, " _Someone_ didn't want to wake up."

"I know exactly how that is," Sam confirmed, making sure that the five casseroles for the reception were ready to go.

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes and said, "They're kids. Let them sleep."

"I know that," Sam answered with his own eye roll. The grin that accompanied it showed that he was still in a good mood as he thought aloud, "Which reminds me. I need to ask Eddie if he can babysit next Saturday."

Brows furrowing, Steve crossed his arms. Thinking about Sam's three sons from a previous relationship and how much the seven year old and five year old twins loved him, even referring to him as Uncle Steve. So, he offered, "Why don't I do it? The boys love me."

Pressing his lips together, Sam purposely didn't look at Steve. Sheepishly, Sam explained, "Nat and I were kind of hoping that you would be… getting out there…"

"Sam," Steve sighed, clenching his jaw in hopes of controlling his annoyance. Even though he was pretty sure that Wanda and Sam could hear the annoyance sprinkled in disappointment with simply saying his friend's name.

Taking on a more teasing tone, Sam asked, "Aren't you tired of three-wheeling?"

"Leave him alone," Eddie announced, entering the kitchen once more. Now dressed in a pair of khakis and a black sweater. His auburn hair still messy though as he reassured Sam, "He's happy."

Quirking a brow at Steve, Sam gave Steve's appearance an assessing glance. He must have seen something though because he didn't debate the subject anymore. Instead, taking out the French Toast Bake and placing it on the counter to cool.

Changing the subject, Sam asked, "When's the service?"

"Ten," Eddie, Wanda, and Steve all answered.

Amused, Sam blinked at the three of them and teased, "You definitely all need to get lives."

"I have a life, thank you," Wanda defended herself. Turning on her heel, she carried her mug into the business side of the house. Effectively ending the conversation. Steve really needed to take notes on that.

"So," Sam started, directing his attention to the teen. "Ya busy next weekend?"

"Date night?" Eddie assumed. Sam nodded and Eddie worried his lower lip with his teeth before disclosing, "I was actually invited to a movie night."

"My man!" Sam exclaimed, holding his hand up for a high five. Giving Steve a pointed look, in a, _See?!_ , way.

Steve rolled his eyes. Then, it occurred to Steve, "So, looks like you're still in need of a babysitter."

"Looks like it," Sam agreed, weakly sighing in exasperation. All the while, Steve beamed. Especially once Sam started cutting the cooling breakfast treat. Plating a large slice for Steve, Sam playfully advised, "Don't let it go to your head, Rogers. I'm mostly agreeing because I know that I can pay you with food."

Happily taking a bite of the French Toast Bake, Steve closed his eyes and groaned. Around another bite of the delicious breakfast, Steve teased, "Let's go to Vegas. Get married. Right here and now."

"You only use me for my kitchen expertise," Sam winked. Tapping his finger against his chin, Sam suggested, "We need to find you a man who can cook."

"Or who can bake," Eddie muttered into his coffee.

A shit-eating grin broke across Sam's face as he asked, "A baker? Anyone in particular?"

"What? There's a secret society I don't know about where all bakers know each other?" Steve good-humoredly mocked.

"Bowling league, actually. We meet on Tuesdays," Sam gave as good as he got. Playfully rolling his eyes before redirecting his attention to Eddie, "So, who is it?"

"The guy from What's the Batter With You," Eddie slyly disclosed like some biddy over tea.

"You went to What's the Batter With You? Without me?!" Sam questioned, turning back to Steve. Placing his hands on his hips, Steve was reminded of being a child under Sarah's disappointment. All Sam needed to do was start tapping his foot while he waited for Steve's answer.

Gesturing towards Eddie, Steve defended, "We were celebrating Ed getting a D on his anatomy test!"

"You got a _D_?!" Sarah questioned, standing on the last step with her hands on her hips.

"Steve needs _the D_ ," Eddie muttered, narrowing his eyes at his brother. Still scowling, Eddie said louder, "It was a really difficult test."

"You have a tutor," Sarah exclaimed, wide-eyed. Heading for the coffee machine, Sarah asked, "Were you even going to tell us? Or were you just going to try and forge a better grade like Cliff used to?"

"Hey! I'm not like Cliff!" Eddie exclaimed, crossing his arms along his chest. Steve couldn't help but nod, agreeing that Eddie wasn't nearly as bad as their older brother. Until Eddie argued, "I'm worse. I take after Steve."

"Hey!" Steve scoffed, playfully glaring at his kid brother.

"I mean, you should see the way he gets all dopey around attractive guys," Eddie kept talking as though Steve hadn't protested at all.

"Trust me, I know," Sam good-naturedly rolled his eyes. Chuckling, Sam clarified, "First time that we met he was so flustered that he just stared at me, slack-jawed."

"I did not," Steve waved off Sam's comment, even though he was blushing. Especially when Sam reenacted the expression with jaw dropped unattractively open and wide-eyed.

"You should've seen him with the baker," Eddie chuckled, doubling over in his laughter. One hand clutching his stomach while the other held onto the counter top.

"Shut up," Steve complained while Sarah gushed, "You met someone?!"

Rolling his eyes, Steve grabbed his mug of coffee and left the kitchen. Following the hallway and pushing the door open to enter the business side of the house. Passing the dining room that had tables set up for the reception after the funeral. Passing the casket display room to find nothing out of place, Steve peeked into the parlor room that was set up for the service. He found Wanda there, putting some finishing touches on the woman. A Mrs., Steve looked to the side where an old photograph and floral wreath stood, proclaiming, Margaret "Peggy" Carter.

Just another Saturday.


	11. Eleven

**Eleven:**

Taking another drink of his coffee, Steve tried to busy himself. Straightening chairs here. Fluffing pillows there. Adding more funeral programs to the already large pile on the side table. Making sure that the large, beautiful bouquets on either side of the twin sets of double doors looked as full as they were. Keeping the candy dishes on the table next to the exits full with assorted candies. All the while with Vinnie following close behind.

Scratching the dog between his floppy ears, the doorbell rang. Brows furrowing, Steve glanced up at the clock. The service wasn't for another half hour, but Steve assumed that some people would be early. It wasn't that out of the ordinary. Steve, himself, was the type of person who was early to everything. Most of it was because Joe hated when people were late, but a lot of it was just having everyone look at him.

Heading over towards the door, Steve felt Vinnie comfortingly brush against his leg. Always excited to meet someone new. Especially if it involved head scratches and possible belly rubs.

As Steve opened the door, he made sure that Vinnie sat off to the side, like he was trained to do. Even though Vinnie was trained for emotional support, that didn't mean that everyone was going to be welcome of said support. So, Vinnie sat as calmly as he could; behind Steve and slightly to the left.

Before Steve could fully open the door, a blonde woman whisked inside. Swiftly, she started shrugging out of her black peacoat and nervously explained, "I know I'm early, but I came straight from the airport -- I hope that's okay. I talked to someone on the phone and they said that it was, but I just want to --"

Gaze finally landing on Steve, the woman abruptly stopped talking. Perfectly sculpted eyebrows lifted in surprise on her pale forehead while her mouth pursed into an oval shape. Her eyes glued to his face, but only momentarily. Once she took in his face long enough to make Steve blush, her gaze traveled down over his tall, muscular frame.

It was clear that she was checking Steve out, and Steve's blush darkened. Averting his gaze, Steve took the last drink of his coffee. Gathering his wits Steve prompted, "You mentioned something about talking to someone…"

"Oh!" The blonde answered, shaking off her leering and holding her hand out as she introduced herself, "I’m Sharon."

"Steve," he shook her hand. Briefly, before taking it from her grip and placing it on Vinnie's head. Self-conscious about how his palms were already starting to sweat and just how rapidly they were growing clammy.

Sharon correctly assumed, "I didn't talk to you on the phone."

"No, you didn't," Steve confirmed with a small grin even though his cheeks still felt hot from his earlier blush.

"Is it still okay for me to be here?" Sharon questioned, her brows furrowing as she leaned closer to clarify, "I'm here for my Great Aunt Peggy."

"Yeah, it's fine," Steve reassured, transforming leaning away from her into leading her towards the parlor that was set up for the funeral. "We usually let family members in before the service, so they can have some alone time to mourn."

"That's very generous of you," Sharon grinned, blushing a bit, herself. Linking her arm through his, she looked up at Steve, "Very sweet."

Remembering that some people acted strangely when they were in mourning, Steve forced a placating smile on his face, "It's the least we can do."

Stopping a few feet away from the open casket, Sharon took in a shaky breath. Suddenly dropping the seduction act, her gaze locked on the casket. Her smile slipping off her face and her fingers twitching on Steve's bicep. Vinnie, who had been following the pair brushed against Sharon's leg as he joined her on her side. Nosing at her free hand, Vinnie brought Sharon back to her surroundings.

Clearing her throat, Sharon softly questioned, "Can I have a moment to myself?"

"Of course," Steve assured, removing his arm from her grasp. Leaving the room, Steve turned back around and let her know, "If you need us, you can find us in the --" office? Dining room? Hanging out by the grand staircase? "--back…?"

Not turning to watch Steve exit through the open double doors across from the grand staircase and closest to the family side of the house, Sharon simply nodded and took a step towards the casket. For a moment, Steve wondered if he should stay close, just in case she needed someone there. But Steve was never good at this part of the business. Preparing a dead body for the service in a basement that most would consider creepy? No issue at all. Steve could probably do it blindfolded, in the dark, at three in the morning while a séance went on in the corner of the room. Being there for a mourner who needed support? Scared the ever living shit out of him to the point where he had had countless nightmares of that exact situation.

Seeing Joe exiting the dining room, Steve rushed over to him, "Dad!"

Startled by Steve's obvious call for help, Joe's eyes widened and he asked, "What? Everything okay?"

"There's a, uh, Sharon," Steve threw his thumb over his shoulder in the general direction that Sharon was, "Came early to see her aunt."

Quirking a brow, "Is she okay?"

"A bit shaken," Steve answered.

"You or her?" Joe teased, earning a weak eye roll from Steve. Knowing how introverted Steve was, Joe didn't pester him for long. Instead, he patted his son's shoulder and reassured, "I'll go check on her."

"Thanks," Steve sighed in relief, knowing that if he had run into Cliff, there would've been more teasing.

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, he watched as Joe entered the parlor where Steve had left Sharon. Letting out a deep breath of relief, Steve entered the dining room to find Sam setting up. Although the reception wouldn't start until eleven, at the earliest, Sam knew that setting up early helped soothe those around. Namely, Steve and Sarah who hated waiting until the last minute for things to be prepared.

Needing to ease his own discomfort at the encounter, Steve decided to tease Sam, "Ya gonna wear _that_ to our wedding? Geez, thought I was special."

"Stevie, you are the most special person in my life," Sam smirked, straightening the stacks of white ceramic plates. Squaring his shoulders, Sam questioned, "Besides, it shouldn't matter what I wear to the wedding. It's about what I wear during the honeymoon."

Blushing, Steve shook his head and softly chuckled. Remembering how he had nearly said the same thing to Brock all those years ago, Steve swore that his blood ran cold for a moment. Practically hearing it aloud again. The way he had handed Brock the empty gift bag while seductively suggesting that he would be only wearing that on their honeymoon. His stomach churning as he remembered how unamused Brock had been _. Hindsight is 20/20_.

Before his mind could take him down that hurtful road again, Steve looked around for something to do. Spotting the containers of silverware and the stack of napkins, Steve headed into the prep pantry and quickly washed his hand before he grabbed the supplies and headed over to one of the tables set up.

Having done this many times in the restaurants that he worked in while in college, and having done this for the funerals here, Steve started rolling the silverware. Laying out the white paper napkin, Steve gathered a fork, spoon, and knife. Placing the utensils diagonally in the napkin, Steve folded the bottom corner up over the ends of the silverware. Bringing the furthest corner towards himself, Steve tucked it and started rolling. Finishing, Steve kept it from unravelling by placing a white napkin band on it.

By the time that he had a stack of twenty rolled in front of him, Sam came to sit beside him. Grabbing some of the materials for himself, Sam glanced over at Steve while nonchalantly asking, "Everything okay?"

"Yeah," Steve answered too quickly, which was his first mistake. Clearing his throat and ducking his head because his blush was sure to give him away, he asked, "Why wouldn't it be?"

"You don't usually roll silverware," Sam shrugged and gestured towards the Weimaraner, "Plus, Vinnie hasn't left your side since you sat down."

"That's because Vinnie is codependent," Steve playfully waved off, rolling another silverware.

Sam gave Steve a pointed look, but didn't comment on it. The pair had been friends for a couple of years now, and Steve knew that Sam knew that if he waited long enough, Steve would spill the beans. Natasha had informed Sam as much, in the start of their relationship because she knew that pushing Steve was counterproductive. Instead of making him want to confess, it made him shutdown and hold on tighter. Ever since that chat though, Sam changed his tactics all while using a meat analogy where the longer a meat cooked the less tough it would be. Steve wasn't sure how he felt about being compared to a slab of meat, but knew that his contact name in Sam's phone happened to, "Beef Cake."

Luckily, Steve seemed to want to talk about it as he caved, "She -- Sharon -- seemed kind of, um… interested…? In… me…?"

"You sound surprised," Sam's brows furrowed as he started rolling more silverware.

"I am," Steve admitted easily. Brows furrowing, he paused in his current task to look over at Sam. Sometimes, Steve forgot that Sam wasn't there during his awkward phase. Sure, he had seen the photos that Sarah just loved bringing out at every opportunity. But seeing the pictures and experiencing the bullying were two different things. And as much as Steve spouted about body positivity to Eddie and Natasha, he was still just as insecure now as he had been back then.

"Well, you shouldn't be. You're hot," Sam shrugged again. Playfully, Steve quirked his brow and Sam rolled his eyes, but there was a smile on his face as he reminded, "I'm comfortable in my sexuality to admit when another man is attractive."

"Fair enough," Steve conceded, grabbing another napkin to roll more silverware. Focusing his attention fully on his current task, Steve asked, "So, what should I do?"

"Ask her out," Sam jokingly suggested.

Pausing again with only one side of the napkin tucked, Steve deadpanned, "Sam, she's mourning."

"See," Sam waved a finished silverware accusingly at Steve as he teased, "If she heard that, she'd only want you more."

"Sam, I'm gay," Steve reminded just as unenthused as before.

That time, Sam paused too. Brows furrowing as he feigned confusion, "I thought you dated Nattie?"

Chuckling, Steve balled up one of the napkins and tossed it at Sam as he corrected, "In the fifth grade!"

"Huh," Sam good-naturedly scoffed. A slow grin stretching his lips as he teased, "So, I guess I don't have anything to worry about with you running away with the love of my life and my future wife?"

Playfully rolling his eyes, Steve balled up another napkin and threw it at him for good measure. Recognizing the way his shoulders relaxed and just how thankful he was that Sam was there. Thankful that Sam was his friend. Thankful that Sam was marrying his best friend. Thankful that Sam knew how to calm him down like no one other than Natasha did. Even if he did purposely make himself look like an ass for Steve's benefit.


	12. Twelve

**Twelve:**

"Compromise where you can. But where you can't, don't. Even if the whole world is telling you to move, it's your duty to plant yourself like a tree, look them in the eye, and say, 'No, you move.'" Sharon eloquently stated.

 _Great_ , Steve couldn't help but think from where he was perched on the grand staircase, _I get brilliant advice years after I needed it_.

Shaking his head in hopes of shaking the thoughts right out of his head, Steve stood and snuck past the parlor. Not wanting to disturb any of the mourners. They needed to grieve, and Steve had no intentions to interrupt them. Especially not over something as horrible as his own selfish unrelated thoughts that he should've been over by now.

Heading for the dining room, he was a little disappointed to find that everything was set up for the reception. Even the different casserole dishes were done and sitting in their stainless-steel chafers. Steve's shoulders slumped just a bit. Now what was he supposed to do?

Seeing that Vinnie was getting love from some of the youngest Carter and Sousa lineage, Steve decided against calling him over. The tears stained on some of the children made Steve's chest clench because it was clear they needed the dog's comfort more. It was the reason why Steve brought Vinnie with him, after all.

Hearing shuffling and light chatter, Steve knew that people were going to start moving about. The funeral over and the reception clearly starting as some of the mourners trickled out of the parlor. Shoulders tensing, Steve turned and started heading for the other side of the house. Only…

"Steve," a woman called out, causing Steve to pause.

Turning around, Steve found Sharon. Pushing his shoulders back, to exude confidence that he was lacking with more than just this particular moment. He fixed a comforting grin on his face and questioned, "Anything I can help you with?"

"Yeah," Sharon nodded, pressing her lips together and averting her gaze. As she kept her eyes downward, she grabbed her arm and held herself.

For a moment, Steve just stood there, waiting for Sharon to say something. When she didn't, Steve shoved his hands into his pockets and asked, "What can I do?"

Blushing, she forced herself to look up at Steve. Her brown eyes focusing on Steve's blue eyes as she started, "I want to apologize for how I acted earlier. I've had a little to drink and I'm sorry for making you uncomfortable."

"You didn't," Steve falsely reassured.

Even though Sharon didn't know Steve, she must have been able to tell he was lying just like everyone else who knew him. She tilted her head and gave Steve a pointed look, "You don't have to put your own comfort and needs below someone else's. I know that I don't like being ogled, and I'm sorry that I did that to you."

Steve wasn't sure what to say to that. Always prioritizing others above himself, no matter what. It was how he had been raised. Both his parents always giving, it was hard not to follow in their lead. No, they didn't turn him into a doormat, but somehow he had wound up that way. Positive that his misgivings were his fault. That getting mad at people walking all over him was his own doing.

Even if it had been at complete odds to how he stood up for others. Jumping into fights that put his own health at risk, if it meant saving someone else.

Directing his gaze just to the left, so he wasn't quite meeting her eyes, Steve said, "Thank you. You didn't have to apologize, but I appreciate it."

Sharon nodded, and then abruptly paused. Looking a little green, Sharon admitted, "I'm feeling nauseous, can you please direct me to the restroom?"

"Of course," Steve agreed immediately and started herding her back in the direction that she came. His arm behind her, but not touching her, as he led her towards the main entrance where the restrooms could be located.

"Thank you," Sharon stated, even though she was lifting her hand to cover her mouth as she rushed into the women's restroom.

Running his hand through his shaggy blond hair, he hoped that there was a stall open for her. Especially since Steve really didn't feel like cleaning up any vomit today. Briefly, Steve thought about cracking the door and telling Sharon to puke in the trash if she couldn't make it to a toilet in time. But ultimately decided against it.

Not really knowing what to do, Steve debated heading for the family side. But since the funeral goers were congregating around the dining room and in the hallway, Steve didn't really feel like bothering them. Even considering sneaking away up the grand staircase. But since the kids were playing on them, Steve didn't want them to follow him up the steps.

"Are you okay, dear?"

Turning towards the bathroom again, Steve found a woman standing outside of the bathroom. Looking like Sharon, except for her graying brown hair, she watched Steve with concerned, wise brown eyes as she repeated, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," Steve quickly reassured. Then, remembering that he was supposed to be there for support, he turned the question back on her, "Are _you_ okay?"

"As well as I can be, all things considered," she assured, taking in a deep, grounding breath.

Steve nodded empathetically. When new tears started building in her gentle eyes, Steve turned around and held out the small box of tissues to her. Grateful, she accepted the gesture and took one. Dabbing at the corner of her eyes and elegantly blowing her nose while Steve just stood there awkwardly holding the tissue box.

"Mom, did you bring any mints?" Sharon asked, exiting the bathroom and instantly pausing when she spotted Steve and the woman -- her mother -- standing in front of the restroom.

"Of course," she nodded, searching through her large purse hanging on her shoulder.

Closing her eyes, Sharon took in a deep breath to mask her exasperation with her mom. So, Steve reached into his own pocket and pulled out a pack of mints. Holding them out for Sharon, so she could get one for herself. Since her eyes were still closed in her annoyance, Steve cleared his throat.

Focusing her attention on him, Sharon smiled and accepted one of the mints. Causing her mom to stop searching for her own pack as she good-humoredly teased, "We just love a well-prepared man."

Sharon and Steve's eyes both grew wide. Sharon complained, "Mom!" Then, quietly, she moved closer to her and griped, "Can you go _one day_ without trying to set me up with someone?"

Assuming that he wasn't supposed to hear that last part, Steve slid the pack of mints back into his pocket. Returning his attention to the two women, a hint of amusement washed over him as he noticed they were mutely arguing. Plenty of nudging and embarrassed glares.

Pressing his lips together to stop himself from laughing, Steve playfully waved the original comment off, "It's all part of the job."

Not deterred in the slightest, the woman gave her daughter a pointed look before introducing herself to Steve, "Amanda Carter."

"Steve Rogers," he grinned, setting the box of tissues down on the side table.

Curious now, Amanda asked, "You grew up _here_?"

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, nodding as he crossed his arms along his chest.

"Was it weird?" Sharon questioned, lowering her voice and leaning a bit closer to not draw attention. Even though Steve felt it did exactly that.

Steve fought a grin again before using the same volume to throw the question back at her, "Was it weird growing up in your home?"

Sharon appraised him again and nodded approvingly, "Touché." Smiling, Sharon conceded, "Of course, I did become a forensic toxicologist."

 _Maybe I could be with a wo_ \-- Steve shook the thought right out of his head. Not even when he was in the closet did Steve seriously consider dating a woman. The only time that he dated anyone of the opposite sex was in the fifth grade when he, "dated," Natasha. And he only did that because she had more action figures than he did.

Of course, just because he didn't want a romantic courtship or a sexual romp with Sharon, didn't mean that they couldn't be friends, right?


	13. Thirteen

**Thirteen:**

Unlocking his apartment, Steve was glad to be home. Vinnie seemed to be glad too. Especially how he headed straight for the kitchen, as though he hadn't been getting scraps from kids the whole day. Steve fondly rolled his eyes, but obliged by following the large dog.

Placing the keys in the ceramic bowl and the mail on the counter, Steve grabbed the dog food from the pantry. Scooping out some of the kibble, Steve smiled at the well-behaved animal as he sat patiently next to the water dish.

However, as soon as he set the food down, it was fair game and Vinnie immediately started devouring it.

Since Vinnie was eating, Steve decided to too. Grabbing one of the leftover containers from the fridge, Steve dumped the pad thai onto a plate. As he heated the dish in the microwave, he occupied himself by going through his mail. Bill, bill, and more bills.

Setting them off to the side to deal with later when he wasn't so emotionally drained, Steve grabbed the newspaper. Shaking it open, Steve's eyes scanned for something interesting.

_Two Men Arrested After Woman Suspicious_

Well, that certainly caught Steve's attention. Scanning the article, Steve was disturbed by the two Peeping Toms'. Not only were they being voyeuristic creeps, but were planning on robbing the woman -- along with many others. Although Steve was relieved that they were caught, he still felt for their victims.

Deciding to move onto happier news, Steve skimmed over: _Fundraiser Hosted By 4-H Leaders Success; Tibbits Theater Presents 'Secret Garden'; Engagements: Zemo, Hogan, Danvers, Stark; Rumlows Announce Birth of Third Child; Basketball Dream Team Puts School Back On_ \--

 _Rumlows? Announce birth? Of third child?_ Steve's heart stuttered uncomfortably in his chest. At first, Steve wasn't sure that he had read it correctly. Only, there, in black and white was a picture of Brock with one arm around a petite blonde woman who was holding their newborn, and his other hand resting on the baby's head. Two other young children sat on the hospital bed with them.

All of them looked so happy that it tore Steve apart. His heart stinging like a fresh wound, despite it being so long ago that Steve could barely even recognize himself and who he used to be, let alone recognize the smiling man in the picture.

Deciding to ignore the ache of his heart -- and the beeping of the microwave -- Steve read:

_Brock and Melissa Rumlow of Manhattan, are proud to announce the birth of their daughter, Sutton Alyviah. She was born April 15 at Metropolitan General Hospital. She weighed 10 pounds and 8 ounces and was 19 inches long._

_She was greeted by her big brothers, Todd, age 5, and Brody, age 3._

Blinking down at the announcement, Steve momentarily felt like puking. Brock was married. Brock had a five year old son. Steve could do the math. He knew what that meant, and it caused the bile to start inching up his esophagus. Nope. Not inching. Sprinting.

Hopping over Vinnie, Steve rushed to the bathroom and barely made it there before his stomach emptied its contents into the toilet. Spitting the last of it out, Steve grabbed the mouthwash. Swishing it around for a bit, Steve spat again and flushed. Wishing that the memories would go with it.

Unfortunately, they swirled around in his head instead. Pulling him right back to all those times that Steve thought that Brock was cheating. How Brock would give him a look that would make Steve wish he hadn't asked to begin with, until he finally did stop. Of course, the suspicion had remained. When Brock started staying out later. When Brock quickly hid his phone when Steve entered the room.

Steve couldn't believe how stupid he had been.

Pressing his back to the cold side of the tub, Steve brought his knees to his chest. Vision blurry, Steve stared at his knobby knees. Trying to remember who he was before Brock Rumlow glided into his life with the offering of an electric lemonade and a bad pickup line.

Running his hand through his hair, Steve vaguely thought about cutting it himself. But he had been friends with Natasha long enough to know that one should never mess with their hair when they were going through a tough spot. The blonde hair and bleached eyebrows phase was enough to keep his hand off the clippers.

Not realizing that Vinnie had joined him until there was a long, slobbery tongue on his cheek, Steve jolted. Affectionately, Steve ran his hand over the dog's dark fur. Glad to have him in his life.

"You're such a good boy," Steve rasped. His throat feeling like sandpaper as he forced himself up. Vinnie was right there, allowing Steve to steady himself as he righted himself. Tenderly patting his back, Steve repeated the praise, "Such a good boy."

Leading the way back to the kitchen, Steve grabbed the last of the pupcakes and gave it to Vinnie. Glancing at the paper abandoned on the counter, Steve thought about how Brock had moved on. Perhaps Steve could too.

Or at least, get some good cake.

Steve quirked a brow at Vinnie and asked, "Wanna go for a walk?"

Despite the dog being tired previously, he perked at the chance to go for a walk. Steve couldn't help but smirk at that. Morning runs, afternoon park play, and evening walks, and Vinnie still couldn't get enough. It made Steve want to buy a house with a large backyard just for him. Hell, Steve would live in a shed if it had a yard for Vinnie to run around in.

Securing his leash once more, Steve left the apartment. One destination on his mind as he led the Weimaraner out of the complex. The light spring breeze was refreshing on his clammy skin. Was this a bad idea? Probably. Was this the worst idea Steve had ever had? Not by a long shot. So, Steve continued along the street lamp lit streets to the little cake shop he couldn't get out of his mind.


	14. Fourteen

**Fourteen:**

_Ding_ , the bell over the door chimed as Steve entered the seemingly abandoned cake shop. Chairs were overturned on top of tables, and Steve took a step back to check the hours on the door. Realizing that What's the Batter With You was supposed to close in five minutes, Steve instantly felt bad and turned to leave the shop. Probably confusing Vinnie entirely as the dog watched, leash tied to the bench directly outside the --

"After dinner sweet treat?"

Turning around, Steve found the one person that he had been hoping to run into. Of course, the chances had been extremely high since it was his cake shop after all. Still, Steve couldn't help the pleasant joy that spread through his chest and tinted his cheeks.

"I didn't realize your hours. I can come back another time," Steve reasoned, his hand still on the door handle.

Playfully, Bucky waved Steve's concern away, "Don't worry about it. This is the perfect time. I have leftover cupcakes and I might just be willing to give them to you at a discount."

Then, he winked.

Steve's heart leapt and his cheeks burned as he tucked his joy away for something more casual, "You do this for all the stragglers?"

"Only the cute ones," Bucky winked, _again_. Turning to the sink in the counter behind him, Bucky started washing his hands. Over his shoulder, he gestured outside as he offered, "Your friend want a pupcake?"

Melting, Steve pushed himself off the door and started heading over to the counter. Glancing over at the ever-obedient Vinnie, Steve conceded, "He was definitely more of a good boy today."

"Yeah?" Bucky asked, drying his hands and joining Steve with the display case between them. Steve nodded and Bucky conversationally questioned, "Why's that?"

"The funeral was draining today," Steve affectionately grinned at the dog through the large window.

"Oh, I'm so sorry," Bucky immediately rushed. Steve redirected his attention to the handsome brunet to find him worrying his lower lip as he started to ramble, "Ya know, I doubt anyone will eat these if I take them home. So, if you want them, you can have them. No extra charge at all. I'm just so sorry for you loss. It's never easy, but sometimes sugar helps. At least, that's what I've experienced --"

"It wasn't my loss," Steve quickly reassured. Eyes wide and hands up to placate the man in front of him who looked as though _he_ might cry just from the sheer amount of his empathy. Steve clarified, "I'm a mortician and Vinnie is a certified emotional support dog."

"Oh," Bucky nodded, placing his hand over his heart, as though that would stop it from shattering. Flashing a small, genuine smile, Bucky suggested, "Well, in that case, Vinnie can come inside."

Steve's brows continued their route up his forehead as he asked, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Bucky confirmed, his grin growing all the while. As his steel blue eyes assessed Steve, he admitted, "You look like you've had a rough day. If he comforts you, he's allowed inside."

"Thank you?" Steve's brows briefly furrowed, but his own smile remained on his face as he backtracked outside to untie Vinnie's leash from the bench.

Leading the large dog inside the shop, Bucky requested, "Mind flipping the sign for me?"

"Sure," Steve nodded, flipping the _OPEN_ sign to _CLOSED_.

For a moment, Steve just stood there as Bucky walked out from behind the counter and crossed the narrow aisle to the closest table. Removing the chairs from on top of the small, circle table, he gestured for Steve to take a seat. And who was Steve to deny someone so kind as Bucky?

"So," Bucky started as he crossed back to the counter. As Steve took a seat, along with Vinnie, Bucky opened the back of the display case and questioned, "Any allergies?"

"None," Steve readily answered.

His heart racing by the grin that stretched across Bucky's face as he confirmed, "Perfect." Steve swallowed thickly, finding the expression and tone to be a bit too tantalizing for himself. Especially when Bucky asked, "Any preferences?"

And, okay, yeah. Maybe it had been awhile since Steve had been propositioned by anyone that he was mildly interested in, let alone an attractive man with a silky smooth voice that, admittedly, did things to him. But this was different. Steve needed to get a handle on what the gaze and grin and voice did to him.

 _Jesus_ , Steve chastised himself before answering Bucky, "Nope. I'm game for anything."

Despite internally cringing, Steve was glad to find that Bucky took it at face value, and looked over the cupcakes as he decided which one to give Steve. When he finally chose the dessert, he plated it and prompted, "So, what made you want to become a mortician?"

When Bucky's eyes locked on his, Steve blushed and averted his gaze to the table his hands were resting on. Shrugging, Steve answered, "Family business."

"Ah," Bucky assented. Surprising Steve by taking a seat across from him at the table, Bucky set a small purple plate with two cupcakes in front of Steve and said, "I get it. Maybe too much. It's why I got into baking."

Nodding, Steve noticed that Bucky had a plate of cupcakes himself. Suddenly, Steve's stomach filled with fluttering butterflies. Which was ridiculous. This wasn't anything special. It was a cupcake. It was an empathetic man trying to comfort another man who had a hard day. It was kindness. Nothing more than that.

Maybe that was why those damn butterflies kept flying around in Steve's belly. They were confused. They mistook kindness for interest, and started convincing themselves that this was an unofficial date.

Around a large bite of cake and frosting, Bucky correctly assumed, "I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say that your job isn't what has you lookin' like someone shit in your ice cream."

Startling a chuckle out of him, Steve felt more at ease as he confirmed, "Definitely isn't my job."

"Knew it," Bucky smugly grinned as he took another bite of his cupcake.

"You seem pretty cocky for a guy with frosting on your upper lip," Steve teased as he pulled down the paper liner of his own cupcake.

Blushing, Bucky grabbed a napkin from the center of the table and wiped at his lips. Locking his eyes with Steve, Bucky asked, "Did I get it?"

Throat feeling tight, Steve nodded and, in hopes of stopping himself from squeaking out the answer, he took a large bite of cupcake. Of course, the way the marshmallow buttercream brought out the flavor in the chocolate cake nearly made Steve moan.

"Good, right?" Bucky leaned forward with bright eyes.

Crunching on the graham cracker crumbs that the cupcake had been rolled in, Steve nodded again. Realizing that he had devoured the cupcake in two bites without even realizing it, Steve licked over his sticky lips and questioned, "What's the name of that one?"

"'Hold the Weenies,'" Bucky named. When Steve choked on his own saliva at the possible innuendo, Bucky smirked and explained, "Because it's a s'mores cupcake. And I don't know about you, but when I think about s'mores, I think about bonfires and therefore --"

"Hotdogs," Steve finished.

"Exactly," Bucky pointed at Steve and winked once more.

When his cheeks burned again, Steve turned his attention back to the plate and unwrapped the next cupcake. Admittedly, it was a bit more difficult considering how sticky the treat was. Syrup drizzled over top the chopped up bacon bits and cream cheese frosting. Nonetheless, Steve was determined to devour that one just as he had the previous.

Bucky seemed to be thinking the same thing since he had already removed the lining from the cupcake and was taking a large bite out of it. So, Steve followed suit. That time, Steve was too involved with the maple cake to withhold the moan. He probably should have been embarrassed, but the cupcake was so good, too good, that Steve couldn't do anything but allow the simple pleasure to fill him completely.

"I'll mark, 'Lumberjack Lust,' a success," Bucky commented.

Opening his eyes -- _when did they close?_ \-- Steve found that same arrogant smirk on Bucky's face. Pleasantly surprised that he didn't mind it this time, Steve's mind caught up to Bucky's words and he chuckled, "'Lumberjack Lust'?"

"I had a thing for guys in flannels, what can I say?" Bucky shrugged, licking a smear of frosting off the back of his hand.

Averting his eyes because that was an innocent thing to do, but Steve's mind was twisting it into something sexual and very much not innocent. Feeling like a scumbag for thinking of this man like that when they hardly knew each other, and especially not _like that_ , Steve decided to disclose, "Me too."

"Yeah?" Bucky smirked, clearly amused as he looked over Steve. Steve's blush grew under the intense stare of Bucky's arresting steel-blue eyes. Finally, Bucky said, "I assumed you'd be the one to wear flannels."

"Well, you know what they say about assuming," Steve trailed off. Scratching at his facial hair though, Steve pressed his lips together in an attempt to hide his smile. He failed as he reasoned, "It's the beard, isn't it."

Loudly chuckling, Bucky nodded his confirmation while adding, "And the shoulders."

"Oh god," Steve chuckled and hid his face in his hands in hopes of masking how red his face was. And it probably would've worked if his ears weren't burning hot too. Those damn things always gave him away.

Peeking from between his fingers, Steve found Bucky softly smile while he affectionately pet Vinnie. His heart stuttered in his chest, as though shifting to its correct place that had been long-since abandoned. And, yup, Steve was in trouble.


	15. Fifteen

**Fifteen:**

The endorphins that filled Steve from spending a half hour with Bucky left him feeling high, and stayed with him for the next week. Causing him to cheerfully whistle as he got ready for his day. Causing him to run faster with Vinnie on their morning runs. Causing him to give Vinnie an extra treat because he was such a good boy, yes he was. Causing him to dance between working on the bodies in the morgue.

By Monday, Eddie had noticed. On Tuesday, he had commented. Come Wednesday, Steve had agreed to babysit Birdie, so Cliff and Julie could go on an impromptu date. And on Thursday, Steve had wondered if it was too soon to stop by the cake shop. Of course, on Friday, Steve had regained his logical side and decided against going to see Bucky. He didn't want to seem pathetic, after all.

Surprised to find that his good mood had lasted until Saturday, Steve had decided to pick up an old hobby. Sure, most of his paints had either gone moldy or dried out. But he still had a few sketchbooks that had some empty pages left. And his colored pencils were still good. Albeit broken. But still usable.

Losing himself in his free afternoon, he didn't realize what time it was until he went to take Vinnie out again. Instead of simply letting him out to potty, he led the Weimaraner to his car. Technically, it had been Nat's first, but Steve wasn't going to lift his nose about receiving a hand-me-down car, much less when it was a Lexus.

Driving across town to the suburb where his friends lived, Steve possibly sped. Nothing too fast, but faster than was suggested. Vinnie didn't seem to mind though as he hung his head out the window. Tongue lulling out of his open mouth and happily panting the whole ride there.

Parking along the curb, Steve led Vinnie through the gate and up the path to the front door. Letting himself in, Steve was greeted by sounds of young boys loudly playing pretend further into the house. Presumably, the family room.

"Prepare to meet your doom!" Natasha theatrically exclaimed.

Steve grinned as he toed off his shoes. Vinnie, the good boy that he was, sat there beside him as he eagerly waited for the go-ahead. Gesturing towards the sound, Steve allowed, "Go on."

"Nat, sweetie," Sam called as he climbed down the staircase. Expertly maneuvering around stuffed animals, toy cars, baseball gloves, and plastic knight shields on his way down. All while fastening his cufflinks and reminding, "We're going to be late for our reservations."

"Aw, come on," the boys chorused as Nattie made her way to the front door. The three boys following mournfully behind her, holding onto her hands and waist while tugging at her black dress. Well, they were until they saw…

"Uncle Steve!" The boys excitedly exclaimed as they left Natasha for Steve. Grabbing onto his limbs and tugging on him as though he was a jungle gym.

"Now, are you gonna be good?" Sam questioned.

"They're always good," Steve defended the three boys, managing to use his hard-won muscles to physically lift the twins in the air as they dangled from his biceps like earrings.

"I was asking you," Sam teased as he sat on the stairs to tie his laces.

As Nat slipped on her black pumps, she smirked up at Steve, "You, uh, planning on chopping some logs later?"

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes. Was he wearing a flannel specifically after talking to Bucky? Yes. Was it because Bucky admitted to liking men in flannels? Also, very distinctly, yes. Not that Steve was going to tell them that.

"You have a crush," Natasha correctly assumed, pleased with this new piece of information.

Blushing, Steve lied, "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do," Natasha argued. Poking his chest, she reminded, "And you're a shit liar."

"I would tell you to put a quarter in the Swear Jar," Sam stood from the stairs and helped Natasha slip into her jacket, "But I'm much more interested in this. Who do you have a crush on, Steve?"

"What's a crush?" Axel asked, trying to use more of his insignificant body weight to his advantage. Steve had to give it to the five year old, he was trying his hardest.

"It's what Nattie has on Daddy," the wiser, seven year old, Blaze, answered.

"No, it's what Daddy has on Nattie," the youngest of them, Knox, argued to simply be argumentative.

"You're both right," Sam appeased while Natasha answered Axel in a way that he would understand, "It's when someone thinks another person is cute."

Good-naturedly shoving at Steve's shoulder, Natasha demanded, "Now, spill!"

The blush creeping up his ears, Steve deflected, "You're gonna miss your reservations."

"Ooh, he's right," Sam confirmed, making sure he had his wallet and keys. Finding them in his pockets, he started ushering Natasha towards the door. On their way, he told Steve, "The baked ziti is already in the oven and the garlic bread will need to go in ten minutes from now."

"Thank you," Steve gushed gratefully.

"We're not done with this conversation, Rogers," Nat called as she left the house.

"She's right though," Sam conceded, closing the door behind them as he told Steve, "Not even pretending to fall asleep on the couch will get you out of this one."

With the boys still hanging off him, Steve started shuffling further into the house. Choosing the clearest path down the hallway to the kitchen as he asked the boys, "What do you guys wanna do tonight?"

"Watch _Goosebumps_!" Blaze excitedly suggested, stopping his tugging on Steve's gray undershirt and letting go of Steve's waist.

"Bake cupcakes!" Knox loudly debated, dropping from Steve's right bicep.

Since Axel didn't say anything, Steve used his brawn and swung the five year old up into his arms as he questioned, "What about you?"

Axel shrugged, so Steve decided to tickle him. As he wiggled in Steve's arms, Axel finally offered, "Arts and crafts!"

Smiling, Steve leaned forward and kissed Axel's forehead before setting him back down on the ground. Steadying him, Steve rubbed the kid's back and stopped in the entry way. Finding that the cushions had been removed from the furniture and were stacked precariously and covered with mismatched sheets.

Letting out a deep exhale, Steve reasoned, "We should clean this up first."

"Uncle Steve," the boys whined. Adding, "This isn't fun," and, "Why can't we leave it?" All the while helping Steve tear down the unsteady fort.

Folding the sheets, Steve negotiated, "We'll build another one. A sturdier one."

With that, the three boys' energies renewed. Replacing the cushions. Some not in their correct places. But that was alright. Steve would fix them later. All he cared about now was having the room in some order. It would make cleaning up at the end of the night easier.

Clapping his hands together to regain the boys' attention, Steve questioned, "Who wants to help me get dinner ready?"

"Me!" The boys chorused as they excitedly hopped around and followed Steve into the kitchen.


	16. Sixteen

**Sixteen:**

Sniffling, Steve wiped at the tears streaming down his face. He was already on his third tissue, and he made a mental note to buy Sam and Nat another box. Being the naturally more sentimental man that he was, he probably should've predicted this. Especially with him deciding to indulge his nephews by watching a Pixar film.

But hell, how was he supposed to know that _Onward_ would tug at his heartstrings more than _Up_?

Earlier, when the three boys had fallen asleep in the fort, Steve had been divided. They were the ones that wanted to watch the movie, after all. Maybe Steve should've stopped it to finish it another time. Perhaps with his own brothers.

Now though, Steve was glad that he had finished the movie. Did it make him sob like a baby? Yes, yes it did. Did he regret it? Not one bit. In fact, Steve was already itching to buy the film.

As the end credits rolled on the screen, Steve heard the garage door. With perfect timing, his best friends entered the house. Causing Vinnie to perk up, but thankfully, not start barking. Of course, that didn't stop his tail from wagging as he heard the familiar voices entering through the kitchen.

Shutting the TV off, Steve greeted, "How was your date?"

"Good," Natasha grinned, leaning against the frame as she looked over the sleeping boys in the blanket fort. "I take it, you all had a good night."

"Duh," Steve stretched, enjoying the pops that erupted down his spine.

"See," Sam started, stepping up behind Natasha. Setting his hands on her hips and resting his chin on her shoulder, Sam smirked, "This is what I love about when you babysit. Not only do you wash the dishes, but you manage to bore the kids to sleep too."

Playfully rolling her eyes, Natasha elbowed her fiancé and walked around the fort to sit on the couch beside Steve. Folding her legs beneath her, she turned towards Steve, making him know that she was not going to be distracted. Sam must've realized that too because as he sat on the sofa, he reached for the remote.

"Spill it, Rogers," Nat quietly demanded.

Steve chose to avoid her eyes and picked at imaginary lint, "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Sure, ya do," Sam scoffed, "You have a crush. We wanna know how to help you and Prince Charming to live happily ever after."

"I would've used, 'Help you get laid,'" Natasha shrugged, "But you get the gist."

Already feeling the heat rise to his cheeks, Steve sighed, running his hand over his face, "Sam already knows."

"What?!" Natasha squawked while Sam mused, "I do?"

Nodding, Steve confirmed, "The owner of What's the Batter With You."

"No shit?!" Sam leaned forward in his seat, revealing a large grin splitting his face.

"Who's the owner of --"

"Bucky Barnes," Steve sheepishly answered.

Gleefully, Sam giggled from his seat while Steve bashfully tried to shrink into his. Natasha, however, sat quietly. Which was made Steve blush more than Sam's giddiness. Hiding his face in his hands while his blush stretched to his ears.

Steve's blush grew even more as Natasha teased, "You think he tastes as sweet as his cupcakes?"

"I'm never talking to you again," Steve muttered behind his large hands. When his phone vibrated, Steve was still complaining, "I'm going to change my name and flee the state."

"Yeah, yeah," Sam sarcastically agreed.

"Been there, done that," Nat waved his comment off.

Opening his phone, Steve found a simple message from Eddie: _Can you pick me up on your way home???_

 _Sure_ , Steve replied, easily ready to leave, if only to save him from childish teasing. Even if it was done in the name of love. _Leaving now_.

Getting the address from Eddie, Steve stood from the couch. Stretching again, Steve informed his friends, "Gotta pick up Eddie."

"Lame," Natasha smirked, standing up to give Steve a tight hug and a kiss on the cheek. Rubbing her thumb over his pale skin, smoothing down the beard, she instructed, "Drive safe."

"I always do," Steve playfully rolled his eyes like a moody teenager. Perhaps, he was spending too much time with his kid brother.

Sam grabbed him and pulled him into a hug then. Not nearly as tight as Nat's, but still ending with a kiss to the cheek. Sam being Sam, also insisted, "Text me when you get home."

"Don't worry," Steve reassured, giving him a squeeze before looking over the snoozing kids in the fort.

Making sure he had Vinnie's leash, he led the tired dog out to his car. Locking the gate on his way, Steve crossed the sidewalk to his hand-me-down Lexus and opened the back door to let Vinnie inside first. Like the good boy that he always was, he laid down and closed his eyes. Clearly tuckered out from spending his Saturday night with three well-meaning, rowdy boys.

Setting his GPS to the address, Steve took off towards the house. Thankfully, it didn't last too long. It was a pleasantly short drive, and Steve pulled up along the curb outside a gorgeous Tudor house.

Cracking the back windows, Steve cut the engine and climbed out of the car. Walking up the tulip lined path, Steve was caught up in daydreams when he heard a deep voice call out, "Steve?"

Pausing right there on the walk, Steve turned to find none other than the man he was currently infatuated with. The blush quickly covering his cheeks, he greeted, "Hi, Buck." Internally cringing at how casual he was, he amended, "Bucky."

"You here for a kid too?" Bucky asked, flashing a gorgeous smile Steve's way.

"Uh, yeah," Steve confirmed. Suddenly remembering that he was wearing a flannel in front of the very man who admitted that he had a thing for guys in flannels, Steve rigidly turned back to face the house.

"I'm surprised you didn't bring, Vinnie," Bucky mused as he caught up to Steve on their walk to the front porch.

"Oh, uh," Steve nervously chuckled as he gestured towards his car, "He's sleeping."

Bucky looked over at the car, almost as though he was hoping to spot the dog. When he didn't, he redirected his attention forward and teased, "If I had known, I would've brought a pupcake."

"If we eat any more of your cake, we're going to need to run more than once a day," Steve commented.

Mind catching up to his mouth, Steve realized what he said and how it could've been perceived as an innuendo. The back of his neck felt hot, and when he noticed how Bucky's eyes scanned his frame, his ears felt as though they could cartoonishly blow steam.

"I don't know about that," Bucky mused, feigning thought as he playfully assured, "You look to be in good shape to me."

Butterflies tried to escape Steve's stomach when Bucky winked. So, nonchalantly that Steve wondered if he had actually done it, or if it was just wishful thinking. When they reached the door, Steve decided not to ask and stood to the side while Bucky rang the doorbell.

The large door opened to reveal a curvy girl with springy red curls. Giving the men a smile in acknowledgement, she turned to call back into the house, "Tibby, Buck's here!"

"How's it goin' Daisy?" Bucky conversationally asked.

 _Daisy?_ Steve couldn't help but internally muse as he assessed Eddie's crush. Admittedly, she was adorable. A sparkle in her eyes that reminded him of Julie, and a softness to her smile that instantly conjured images of Natasha. Although he didn't know much about this girl other than what Eddie had gushed about, he decided that he liked her.

While Daisy told Bucky, "Not too hot. Should've accepted the job at the cake shop when you offered it."

"Tutoring not going well?" Steve curiously questioned. Daisy's brows furrowed, and Steve realized that she had no clue who he was and probably thought that he was some creeper. So, Steve introduced himself, "I'm Steve, Eddie's brother."

"Oh," Daisy's eyes lit up and she pressed her lips together as she turned to look over her shoulder.

As thick as thieves, Tibby and Eddie exited the house. Tibby giving Daisy a hug while Eddie gave a stilted wave, a blush high on his freckled cheeks. After Daisy closed the door and the four started back down the walk, Steve noted how the teens shared a knowing glance.

Suspiciously, Steve narrowed his eyes as he asked, "You two have fun?"

"Yeah," they answered in unison, which only caused Steve's skepticism to grow.

Chancing a glance at Bucky, Steve was relieved to find that he wasn't the only one sensing something off here. Bucky gave him another wink before wrapping his arm around Tibby's shoulders. Reeling her in as he questioned, "You didn't want to stay the night? Don't you usually stay?"

"Oh, uh," Tibby floundered for a moment before she stage whispered, "Aunt Flow came to town, if ya know what I mean."

Steve watched the war on Bucky's face. He wasn't positive, but Steve thought that Bucky was doubting this excuse. It was also obvious that Bucky wasn't going to call his sister out in front of a stranger, and was therefore the perfect excuse.

Instead sighing before dropping a kiss to the top of her head. Waving at Steve and Eddie as him and Tibby crossed the street. Sending a farewell of, "Stop by the shop anytime."

"Trying to fatten me up?" Steve surprised, even himself, with how easy the tease came to him.

Bucky threw his head back as he laughed, "A man can try!"

Biting back his grin, Steve climbed into his car and waved as the brunets drove by. Watching the car in the rearview mirror before pulling away from the curb, Steve narrowed his eyes at Eddie, "Planned?"

"I assure you, I don't know what you're talking about," Eddie scoffed, but the wide grin was answer enough.


	17. Seventeen

**Seventeen:**

"Hey, Steve?"

Locking the morgue up for the night, Steve turned to find Sam. The man approached him with a large grin that managed to weasel a grin out of Steve too. Tucking his keys into his pocket, Steve conversationally questioned, "What's up?"

"Oh, ya know," Sam shrugged, following Steve through the funeral home. Wrapping his arm around Steve's shoulders, Sam suggested, "You know what you need?"

Steve took in a deep breath, holding back a sassy remark that was on the tip of his tongue. Instead, Steve chose to play along and asked, "What do I need?"

"A night out," Sam brightly grinned. Persuasively wiggling his brows.

Rolling his eyes, Steve good-naturedly scoffed, "It's Tuesday."

"So?" Sam questioned, "What's that have to do with anything? You're not in school. You don't have a morning service tomorrow. And what you need is some time with adults."

"You're not trying to convince me to head out to SHIELD, are you?" Steve quirked a brow, mentioning the popular gay bar in town. Remembering how uncomfortable he always felt in the middle of the dance floor covered in sweat surrounded by attractive men. Always feeling out of place.

Shrugging out from under Sam's strong grip, Steve relayed, "Carol already dragged me along with her and I'm not go--"

"Chill out," Sam rolled his eyes and clarified, "I was thinking more your speed."

"More my speed?" Steve repeated, crossing the backyard to the swing set.

"Yeah," Sam confirmed.

Lifting Birdie into his arms, Steve gave her a kiss when she wrapped her tiny arms around his neck in a tight hug. While holding his niece close to himself, he informed his friend, " _This_ is my speed."

"Oh, c'mon," Eddie scoffed from the swing where he sat.

"See?!" Sam wildly gestured towards the teen as he enunciated, "Thank you!"

Rolling his eyes, he took in a deep breath and ducked his head to hide in Birdie's silky hair. How did this even happen? His best friend and his brother ganging up on him because he'd rather spend a quiet night at home with his nieces and nephews? Was it Steve's fault for preferring company that wasn't going to judge him for being single and constantly trying to set him up with people? He didn't think so.

"Why don't we hang out?" Sam offered, arching his eyebrows in a silent plea.

"When?" Steve asked, peeking around Birdie to look up at the persuasive man.

"Tonight," Sam answered easily with a shrug.

Steve looked over at Eddie who was nodding in encouragement. Chewing on his lip as he thought, he finally decided to agree. Nodding as well, Steve gave Birdie one more kiss before setting her back on the ground where she took off like a bullet for the clubhouse.

"Guess you're my only true friend," Steve teased as he feigned offense with how fast Birdie forgot about him while climbing up the slide.

"Duh," Sam mocked, wrapping his arm around Steve and steering him towards the parking lot.

"So," Steve started watching as Eddie distracted Vinnie. Climbing into the passenger seat of Sam's blue 2019 Volvo V60 Wagon, Steve questioned, "What's the plan?"

"You'll see," Sam sing-songed as he pulled out of the parking space and left the funeral home.

Steve definitely didn't like the sound of that. It was already unusual enough for Sam to proposition him this way. But add the tight-lipped convincing to get him to agree? It made everything in Steve tighten in his suspicions. If Steve didn't know better, he'd assume he was about to be dragged off to a blind double date.

But luckily, Steve _did_ know better. And he knew that there was no way that Sam would scheme Steve into a set up without having him go home and shower first.

When Sam pulled into the parking lot of the bowling alley, Steve managed to finally relax at last. Already imagining how nice it would be to just have a fun night with one of his best friends while getting buzzed on cheap beer and eating as much, greasy, deep fried foods as he could. It would be nice. Even the musty air and questionable rental shoes would be a breath of fresh air.

"You seem surprised," Sam chuckled, climbing out of the vehicle.

"Relieved," Steve corrected as he followed him into the building.

Draping his arm along Steve's broad shoulders again, Sam playfully mused, "What? You really think I'd set you up? Looking like _this_?"

Rolling his eyes, Steve didn't mind the dig at his shaggy hair, beard, or even the purple plaid shirt he was wearing over the baggy baby blue tee; a rarity that only made an appearance on laundry day. Sure, he was a little more worse for wear today, but he was just relieved that --

"Wilson, I swear to god, I'm gonna superglue a watch to your forehead, so whenever your vain ass looks in the mirror, you'll know the time!"

A chill ran down Steve's spine. Perhaps Steve had spoken too soon, and was correct to believe his friend for the liar he was. Giving Sam a side-glare, Steve turned towards the food court where he found Bucky.

Because, of course, he did.

"Steve?" Bucky asked. Brows furrowed and a grin on his face as he carried a pitcher of beer, "You know Sam?"

"Yeah, we met through his _former_ employer," Steve inhaled deeply in annoyance, but followed Bucky nonetheless.

Bucky chuckled at that and led the way over to their apparent corner. Before anything else could be said, a chorus of familiar voices all greeted Steve with either, "Rogers," or, "Stee-ve," or Carol's always warm, "Fuckface!"

Steve's brows weren't the only ones that furrowed as Bucky set the pitcher down and asked, "You know each other?"

"'Course," Carol answered, clearly already buzzed. The ever doting wife that she was, Maria handed her a bottle of water and explained, "Funeral catering is a very small niche."

As though it all clicked for Bucky then, he nodded and confirmed, "Rogers' Funeral Home."

"Family owned and operated," Steve automatically replied. Thinking over what he just said, he blushed and distracted himself by drinking the rest of Carol's beer. Then, quickly refilling the glass for himself.

"I really should've put it together sooner," Bucky chastised himself as he took the seat beside Steve.

Those damn butterflies in Steve's stomach started fluttering with Bucky so close to him, but only for a moment before a man strikingly similar to Bucky called out, "You're up!"

As Steve forced himself to not look at Bucky's ass -- no matter how truly spectacular it was -- he accused, "I didn't think you were serious about the bakers in the town having a bowling league."

"Why would I make up something as ridiculous as that?" Sam scoffed, brows furrowing in genuine confusion.

Steve shrugged, not having any answer to that.

"Oh, hi!" A woman greeted. "You're the man from the shop!"

Looking up at the pregnant brunet, Steve recognized her as Bucky's sister. Assuming her to be his twin, but not remembering her name, Steve introduced himself, "Steve."

"Becca," she grinned while rubbing a soothing hand over her baby bump. Taking it upon herself to introduce the others, she gestured at the brunet who had to be another Barnes' member, "That's Teddy. Our brother."

"The oldest," Teddy confirmed, grinning as he took a drink of his beer.

"Arthur," Becca informed, gesturing to a freckled man with bright orange-red hair. Arthur smiled at Steve in acknowledgement before ducking his face into Becca's neck to kiss her there. Giving her belly an affectionate rub and one more kiss on his way to the lane. Becca clarified, "My husband."

"I figured," Steve kindly smiled.

"Hey Becks," another brunette called from the food court. "If I get the loaded nacho supreme, will you share with me?"

"The baby doesn't like black olives," Becca easily answered. As the brunette at the counter turned back to the employee, Becca said, "That's our sister, Mandy."

Steve's smile grew and he teased, "Think she'd share some of those nachos with me?"

"If she doesn't, I'll order some," Becca leaned forward to give Steve's hand a squeeze.

"Uh oh, looks like you have some competition, Artie," Bucky mocked, taking the seat beside Becca, winking at Steve.

"Can't have competition, when there wasn't even a contest to begin with," Arthur answered in a deeper voice than Steve expected for the short, slender man.

As Steve watched the man bowl a strike -- and wondered if rubbing Becca's belly was a ritual of good luck as Maria also smoothed her hand over the bump before approaching the lane -- someone tapped his foot with theirs. Glancing in front of himself, he found it was Bucky. With Bucky's attention on him and his foot against his own, Steve could already feel the blush creeping up the back of his neck. Knowing he'd have to do something really special to thank Sam for this. Maybe a muffin basket.


	18. Eighteen

**Eighteen:**

"That's it," Carol teased, words still slightly slurring and throwing her hands up in mock exasperation, "I wanna trade Steve. Give us Mandy."

"Hey!" Mandy -- the worst bowler witnessed tonight -- complained while Becca attempted to comfort, "He's not _that_ bad."

Steve, standing in front of the foul line, simply rolled his eyes. Bowling ball in hand as he attempted to throw the ball in a manner that would knock down the most pins. If only to prove his friends wrong, that he was a good bowler. Especially after he claimed to be a decent one before the game started. Maybe it was the alcohol that lessened his bowling abilities. Or perhaps the excited butterflies causing a tsunami in his blood stream. Whatever it was, it was proving Steve to be a shit bowler.

Tossing the glittery purple bowling ball that Bucky picked for him down the lane, Steve watched with bated breath. Utterly disappointed in himself for not knocking any pins down, and instead, how the ball rolled down the gutter.

Gleeful laughter and annoyed groans chorused behind him as he turned to find the group of people watching him. And since alcohol turned Steve into even more of a shit than he usually was, he spread his arms out and theatrically asked, "Are you not entertained?!"

Sam rolled his eyes and waved Steve's dramatics away while Bucky chuckled. As Bucky approached, holding a lilac purple bowling ball, he teased, "You sure you don't want to join the birthday party down there? I think they have the bumpers up."

"At least they'd be better company than you," Steve sing-songed.

Okay, so maybe he should eat something to soak up the alcohol that was clearly giving him too much confidence. But how could he not enjoy this when they were having so much fun?

Playfully narrowing his eyes, Bucky stuck his tongue out at Steve before expertly throwing the ball down the lane. Ripping his gaze from Bucky's ass -- so he was staring, sue him -- to the ball, Steve watched as it hit the pins, knocking all of them down. Resulting in his first strike of the night.

Victoriously, Bucky jumped into the air. Lifting his arms up as he turned around and jumped into Steve's embrace. At the last moment, Steve's mind caught up to the situation and he quickly wrapped his arms around Bucky's muscular frame.

"I guess it's true about rubbing Becca's belly," a man exclaimed from behind them.

"Tony!" Bucky cheerfully greeted, removing himself from Steve's grip and started heading towards the man.

As though his life was a joke, Steve turned around just in time to find Bucky kissing a shorter brunet. Steve's heart dropped down into his stomach to be eaten by the moths there. He was so stupid to think that Bucky was single. Of course, a kind, compassionate, empathetic man such as Bucky would be in a relationship with someone.

This wasn't the first time that Steve had mistaken kindness for flirting. But it definitely was the first in over a decade where he _wanted_ the kindness to actually be flirting.

"What, you finally tired of being pampered on Tuesdays?" Bucky good-humoredly teased the man, pressing another chaste kiss to his lips.

"My lady has the flu, and you know that I don't trust people a lot of people with my toes," the man playfully pouted, causing Steve to discretely roll his eyes.

"Yeah, I know," Bucky chuckled, moving away from the man.

Steve paused. There, standing there, nuzzling into Bucky's side was Anthony Stark. The man who Steve had spent ten months of his life planning the _perfect_ wedding. Looking exactly as he had back then with the same artfully-trimmed goatee and meticulously tousled brown hair.

"Oh!" Bucky exclaimed, startling Steve in his outburst as he happily introduced, "Tony, this is Steve. Steve, Tony."

Anthony -- Tony -- unabashedly looked Steve over. His eyes slowly, carefully, running down his body. It brought back memories of their first appointment when Steve was still high off of being freshly engaged and shopping around for a wedding planner.

Quirking his brow and smirking, as though he was impressed, Tony held his hand out to Steve and said, "Nice to meet you."

Steve took his hand and corrected, "We've already met, actually."

"We have?" Tony's brows furrowed, as he assessed Steve a bit more. Where Tony had remained the same over the past six years, Steve had changed a lot. Purposely, so he wouldn't have to look at his reflection and know that he was unlovable.

Of course, with how this particular situation was turning out, Steve didn't know what to do with himself now.

Then, it must have clicked because Tony's brows arched high on his forehead as he conceded, "Oh, I'm so terribly sorry. I didn't recognize you."

"That's okay," Steve assured, taking his hand back. Wishing he could crawl out of his skin when it clicked for Bucky too.

"How've you been?" Tony conversationally asked, still nuzzling into Bucky's side while Bucky's arm remained loosely, casually, wrapped around Tony's waist.

"Good," Steve lied, hoping his fake smile wasn't giving him away.

"That's good to hear," Tony replied, possibly feigning interest as well. Steve nodded and Tony questioned, "Are you a baker too?"

"Uh, no," Steve informed, "A mortician, actually."

Tony's eyes widened in shock and slight disgust while Bucky added, "But he's an honorary baker since he hangs out with Sam."

Nodding at what Bucky was saying, Tony leaned in closer to him and quietly asked, "Which one is Sam?"

"The one in the green," Bucky relayed just as quietly.

Tony's eyes ran over the group and found Sam. Tony then redirected his attention to Bucky and wistfully sighed, "I'm so glad I'm marrying you."

Steve wondered if the clashing of his teeth was audible, or if he was the only one who could hear the harshness when he snapped his mouth shut. Marrying? Bucky was engaged? To Tony?

Never had Steve misconstrued someone's innocent actions so poorly before.


	19. Nineteen

**Nineteen:**

Once people started leaving the bowling alley, Steve couldn't help but watch as Tony seductively pushed Bucky up against the side of an ostentatious, red Audi R8. Surprised with how carefree and casual Tony was with his public displays of affection. Of course, Steve imagined that if he was in a relationship with Bucky, he also wouldn't mind indulging in such actions. Not that that was going to be happening any time soon -- or at all, now -- though. Nope, obviously, not.

When Tony started shamelessly making out with Bucky, however, Steve quickly averted his eyes and tried to keep the contents of his stomach where they were. Even though, his body wanted nothing more than to expel the bile all over the shiny sports car. As much as Steve's eyes wanted him to keep watching like a train wreck one couldn't look away from, his heart's begging eventually won out. Unable to handle just how much it hurt as he looked down at the asphalt instead.

"You okay?" Sam cautiously questioned, eyes full of concern as they walked side-by-side.

"Yup," Steve didn't even try to hide his lie.

Instead of calling him out for it, Sam clarified, "I swear I didn't know, Steve. Honest. If I did, I wouldn't have encouraged --"

"Hey, Steve," Carol called, running up to him and wrapping her arm around his slim waist. "Wanna have some fun?"

Draping his arm around her strong shoulders, Steve asked, "What do you have in mind?"

"SHIELD," Carol wiggled her eyebrows, earning a snort from Steve. Which was really the only laughter he was capable at the moment when it felt like his heart had been charred to a crisp inside his chest. "How about it?"

Already knowing he'd agree, Steve feigned thought. Sam, figuring out Steve's choice as well, rolled his eyes while Maria pleaded with her wife, "Baby, you know that's not what Steve needs."

"Shh," Carol lovingly shushed as she conceded, "It might not be what he needs, but it's certainly what he wants."

"How do you know what I want?" Steve scoffed, smirking down at the blonde.

"I'll tell you what you want," Carol giggled, "What you really, really want."

"If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were still drunk," Maria affectionately teased while Sam complained, "Great. Now I'm going to have that song stuck in my head for the rest of the night."

In reply, Carol childishly stuck her tongue out at her wife, and then Sam, before turning her attention back to Steve as she asked, "So, how about it?"

"I don't know," Steve mocked, still pretending to be thinking about it. Even going so far as to rub his beard and narrow his eyes.

Smirking, Carol elbowed Steve in his ribs, but played along, "Oh, c'mon, Stevie. We can go dancing. We can get those colorful, fruity drinks you like so much. You might even hit it off with someone and get laid."

Blushing, Steve blew a puff of air as he pretended to cave, "Oh, okay."

"Yay!" Carol happily cheered as she skipped forward to wrap her arms around Maria's curvy frame. "Stevie's coming out!"

"Coming out? He's been out," Maria joked, earning loud giggles from her wife.

"You know this is a bad idea, right?" Sam questioned, pausing by his Wagon, jingling his keys.

Steve paused too, glancing over at Bucky. Bucky was currently chuckling and playfully pushing Tony away. Not that that deterred Tony in the slightest as he smirked and nuzzled his face in Bucky's neck.

Steve wondered what it'd be like to feel Bucky pressed against him. What it'd feel like to trail kisses down the brunet's elegant neck. Wondering what kind of cologne Bucky wore on special occasions. Wondering what body wash's scent remained on his skin. The shampoo he used and how soft his hair felt. Wondering if he liked have fingers tangled in the long strands and --

"Tony!" Bucky stated, scandalized by whatever the shorter brunet was doing. Stomach dropping further, Steve closed his eyes and took in a deep breath.

Opening his eyes, Steve directed them to Sam and conceded, "It won't be the first time I've done something stupid. I doubt it'll be the last."

Then, before he could change his mind, Steve turned to join Maria and Carol. Climbing into the backseat of their black Jeep Cherokee, and running his hand through his shaggy hair so he wouldn't accidentally glance over at Bucky and his fiancé. No matter how badly his mind urged him to do so anyway.

Trying not to think about the night that Bucky was going to be having with Tony, Steve attempted to get his mindset right. Focusing on the alternative 90s music that Carol turned up while Maria bobbed her head and drove towards the gay night club. Carol occasionally turning in the passenger seat to smile widely at Steve, encouraging him to, "Let loose, babe."

So, that's what Steve tried to do.

On the car ride, by wiggling in his seat to the beloved, Angry Chick Rock, and singing along to the lyrics that he knew. At the club, when strangers approached him and bought him those colorful fruity drinks that he really did enjoy most.

Even trying to stay loose when the music was too loud and too fast paced for Steve to properly keep up with. Sure, he wasn't the best dancer, but he still moved to the beat. Which seemed to be a good thing. Especially when a lithe, handsome brunet with his hair tied back in an attractive messy bun started grinding on Steve. Finding himself getting lost in the way the man moved and the way his stubble scratched along Steve's beard, reminding Steve of velcro.

It was everything that Steve wanted. Just with the wrong man.

Not that that was going to stop Steve. It probably should've, but Steve couldn't stop. Enjoying the way the liquor eventually stopped burning when it slid down his throat. Pleased with how his companion couldn't keep his eyes -- or his hands -- off of him. Surprised when his new friend asked him home. Even more surprised when he agreed.

"Sweetie, are you sure you wanna do this?" Maria yelled over the music while Carol gave him two enthusiastic thumbs up and exclaimed, "Get it, Stevie!"

In answer, Steve took Maria's face in his hands and gave her a friendly -- albeit sloppy -- kiss on her mouth. Not wanting to leave Carol out, he pulled her in for a kiss too. As he turned to join his new companion, Carol swatted Steve's ass in her way of supporting him further. Which Steve appreciated.


	20. Twenty

**Twenty:**

Steve appreciated his friend's support almost as much as he appreciated the brunet sliding his hand onto Steve's ass and just holding it as they left the club. A possessive act that Steve normally despised. But looking over the man bun and the tight lilac purple tee made Steve weak in the knees for some reason. Who knows why…

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Steve became hesitant. Was this a good thing to be doing? Using this man because he couldn't be with the one he actually wanted to be with? It was a bad thing to do, right? Steve was a bad person for doing this, yeah? Then again, who's to say this man wasn't doing the exact same thing? He could also be just looking for some blond haired, broad shouldered faux lumberjack in replace of the one he really wanted.

"You okay?" The man questioned after hailing a cab.

"Uh, yeah," Steve nodded, hoping that he wouldn't catch onto his lying the way his friends always did. Running his hand through his hair, he sheepishly confessed, "I'm sorry, I don't think I caught your name."

"Ian," he smirked. He was handsome, Steve could admit it. And by the way he arrogantly winked at him, Steve was positive that he was well aware of it. Steve just hoped that Ian fell into the _Bucky_ category rather than the _Brock_ category in regards of how smug he was.

"Steve," he introduced himself, before Ian could ask. Holding his shoulders back as he tried to exude confidence even though the eyes roaming over his frame made him feel all twitchy.

Crowding into Steve's space, Ian pressed himself against him like he was a cat lazily, contently stretching in the sun after gorging themselves on some fattening, rich cream, "I've never met a hot Steve before."

"Is that right?" Steve self-consciously chuckled, glad when the cab finally pulled up along the curb. Flirting wasn't his strong suit. Never had been, and with Steve going on 29, he wasn't sure if he'd ever master it. But time seemed set on proving that that ship had sailed.

Climbing into the cab, Ian told the driver his address and looked back over at Steve. Leaning against him. Breath hot on his ear, Ian whispered, "You wanna top or bottom?"

A shudder ran down Steve's spine from the breath on his neck and cleared his throat, "I'm fine with either."

"I should tell you, I'm a really indecisive person," Ian's smirk grew into something more genuine before turning smug again. Biting his lip in a calculating way, drawing Steve's gaze there, Ian clarified, "I'm not sure if I want my dick in you or if I want yours in me."

Steve's eyes widened at the blasé crass comment. Sure, he went to a club and was now on his way home with said person to participate in some sexual activities. But he couldn't help the way he blushed at Ian's dirty mouth.

_Would Bucky be this way?_

Internally cringing at himself, he was more than willing to focus on Ian's lips on his neck. The way Ian sucked his earlobe into his mouth. Tenderly nibbling on it before running his tongue along it to soothe any discomfort. Thrilling at finding that Ian had a tongue piercing and wondering how it would feel sliding along other parts of his body.

"Okay," the cab driver announced, pulling up to the curb outside of Ian's apartment complex.

The two men pulled away from each other, and Steve blushed as he climbed out of the cab while Ian paid for the fair. Standing on the sidewalk, waiting for Ian, Steve ran his hand through his hair. Although Steve didn't do this very often, he could confidently say that out of all those casual sex partners, Ian had the nicest place. So far, at least. The complex itself was a welcoming mix of historical and modern. Steve especially liked the flowers lining the iron gate that decoratively surrounded the grounds of the apartment complex.

"C'mon," Ian smugly smirked, taking Steve's hand and pulling him into the courtyard. Unlocking the complex door, Ian led Steve over to the elevator.

As soon as the doors opened, Ian playfully pulled Steve into the elevator and into a kiss. Not objecting in the slightest. Surprised with himself when he discovered that he was actually enjoying this. Enjoying the way Ian's lips parted and the way his tongue ring slid along his own tongue.

When the elevator doors opened again, Steve pulled back. Spotting an elderly woman with a small dog in her arms, Steve hopped back entirely like a teenager who was just caught by their parents making out with the quarterback of the football team instead of doing homework.

Ian wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and greeted the woman as she entered the elevator, "Mrs. Henderson."

"Mr. Darcy," the woman greeted in return, smirking at Steve, "Mr. Darcy's friend."

Steve blushed, ducking his head to hide the grin that tugged at his lips. All too pleased when Ian took his hand in his. Lacing their fingers together as they arrived at Ian's floor. Ian pulled Steve out of the elevator, and Steve made sure to wave at Mrs. Henderson, who giggled as she watched the two men uncoordinatedly traveled down the hallway.

"She's nice," Steve teased as Ian unlocked his apartment.

Ian threw his head back to chuckle as he opened his door and gestured for Steve to enter first. Playfully, Ian questioned, "Are you always this chipper?"

"Hmm," Steve hummed as he feigned thought.

Closing the door, Ian pressed Steve up against it. Standing on his toes to sensually press his lips to Steve's. When Ian stood even closer, pressing their pelvises together, Steve barely contained his moan when he felt Ian's hardening cock contained in his tight jeans. Feeling how interested his partner was caused Steve's own dick to start chubbing up in intrigue.

Lips still pressed together, Steve suggested, "Maybe we should move this somewhere more comfortable?"

"I like your thinking," Ian smirked around another kiss.

Instead of pulling back, the way that Steve expected, Ian grasped onto Steve's shirt and pulled Steve along with him with their lips still locked. Steve couldn't help but smile and tangle his fingers in Ian's long brown strands. Half of his mind pretending it was Bucky -- okay, more than half -- while the other part reprimanded himself for using this man for his sick fantasies starring his engaged crush.

Brows furrowed, Ian pulled back from the kiss and studied Steve, "You okay?"

"Yeah," Steve fibbed, leaning into kiss the man again. Before Ian could pull back again, Steve used his hard-won muscles and hefted Ian up. Earning an undignified squawk from the man in return as he quickly grappled for purchase.


	21. Twenty-One

**Twenty-One:**

Ian tangled his fingers in Steve's shaggy hair, and his ankles linked together behind Steve's back while Steve carried the brunet to his bedroom. Not bothering with turning lights on, just crossing the room and unceremoniously tossing Ian on his bed.

Eagerly, Ian shifted to his knees and instantly removed his purple t-shirt. Blindly tossing it to the floor as he started removing his tight skinny jeans. Since Ian was undressing, Steve decided to as well. Slipping out of his flannel and tugging off his baggy t-shirt. At his jeans, he paused.

Since it was laundry day, Steve had forgone underwear. Nervous that Ian would assume that Steve purposely planned for _this_ to happen, Steve worried his lower lip. Of course, Steve shouldn't have been nervous about his casual hookup thinking that this was something that Steve regularly did. After all, they were both here…

"You shy, baby?" Ian questioned, a little breathless from removing his tight pants. Revealing a yellow thong, Ian crawled over to the edge of the bed and placed his hands on Steve's abs as he offered, "Want some assistance?"

Still worrying his lip, Steve nodded, removing his hands from his jeans. Helpful as ever, Ian stroked his finger down Steve's defined muscles and Steve couldn't help but giggle. Smirking, Ian leaned forward and started trailing kisses along Steve's strong jaw. Unbuttoning Steve's jeans, Ian teased, "Are you ticklish?"

Before Steve could answer, Ian stroked his fingers over Steve's abdomen again. When Steve giggled, Ian pulled back to smile at him. It wasn't the smile Steve wanted, but he still leaned forward to kiss those lips.

As they kissed, Ian pulled down the zipper of Steve's jeans and immediately pushed his hands between the material and Steve's skin. Running his large hands along Steve's smooth skin, Ian must've been searching for another layer of clothing. When he didn't find it, Ian slid his hands back to Steve's ass. Smoothing his hands down, Ian grabbed Steve's cheeks and moaned against Steve's lips.

"I've made my decision," Ian conceded, pressing quick kisses to Steve's mouth.

"Hmm?" Steve hummed, focusing on the way Ian was starting to press a line of kisses along his jaw.

"I wanna fuck you," Ian bluntly confirmed. Briefly sucking Steve's earlobe into his mouth and flicking his tongue piercing against it. "Wanna see my cock between these _amazing_ \--" squeezing Steve's ass "-- cheeks."

Moaning, Steve pushed Ian back on the bed and wiggled out of his jeans while Ian simply removed the bright g-string. Out of all the men that Steve had ended up with between the sheets, none of them had ever worn such revealing undergarments. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. A part of his mind started wondering what Bucky wore, and a louder part shouted at him to shut up and fuck the man he was currently with.

Climbing onto the bed, Ian instantly flipped them, so Steve was on his back. Leaning closer to lick his way down to Steve's erection. Thrilling at the way Ian's smooth, ball piercing felt against his skin. Causing him to harden even further when Ian swirled the tip of his tongue along the head of his cock before pressing the piercing against the slit.

Steve shouted at the sensation of the piercing on such a sensitive part of his body. Ian chuckled as he pulled back and wiped at his mouth. Patting the outside of Steve's thigh, Ian instructed, "Roll over."

Doing as asked, Steve got on his hands and knees. Pressing close, Ian started kissing along Steve's broad shoulders and down his muscular back. Removing himself from Steve's body, Ian's gravelly voice directed, "Spread your cheeks, baby. Show me where you want me."

This definitely wasn't something that Steve did. His stomach started to churn as his mind reminded him of the absolute last person that Steve ever wanted to think of again. Although the circumstances were different, Steve couldn't help but feel like he was with Brock again. Trying to spice up their love life because Brock thought it was boring. Allowing Brock to be more dominant in hopes of making his partner happier.

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Steve reached behind himself. Trying to be the down-for-anything type of guy. Trying to keep Ian interested. Hesitantly, Steve took one cheek in each hand. And immediately lost his balance. Tumbling forward and landing face first into the decorative pillows.

Embarrassed and completely out of his comfort zone, Steve could feel his erection receding. Removing his hands from his ass, Steve rolled over until he was sitting up. Ready to be kicked out of bed since he wasn't willing to play by the rules.

Pausing his hand mid-stroke, Ian quirked a brow and questioned, "Everything alright?"

"No," Steve admitted, huffing out a breath while he ran his hand through his messy hair, "I, uh, I don't think I can do… _this_."

"Oh," Ian said, sounding terribly disappointed by the turn of events. Panting as he tried to calm himself, Ian asked, "Can I ask what you… don't… think you can… do? Specifically?"

"I, uh," Steve thickly swallowed. Absentmindedly picking at the skin around his thumb, Steve admitted, "I'm just… I'm not into… being dominated. Or humiliated…"

"Okay," Ian easily agreed, "We won't do that. What else don't you like?"

Shocked by how Ian didn't sound annoyed or judgmental, it took Steve a moment to remind himself that not every guy was like Brock. Not every man was going to call him a lame lay for not wanting to be adventurous in the bedroom. Not every man was going to mentally tear Steve down in order to control him better.

So, Steve rose to his knees and crawled across the bed to Ian. Cradling Ian's face in his large hand, Steve leaned forward for a sweet, chaste kiss as a _thank you_. Ian's lips quirked up into a grin and Steve leaned forward again, this time the kiss wasn't as short, but still sweet. Even when Steve licked his way into Ian's mouth wishing it was another man's.


	22. Twenty-Two

**Twenty-Two:**

Hands on his knees, Steve stared down at the ground as he panted. Finishing his run, Steve led Vinnie over to a nearby bench, so he could stretch his sore muscles. A good sore from using his muscles after a lazy prior day, but sore nonetheless.

Being the good boy that he was, Vinnie laid on the grass, panting as well. Tongue plopping out as he watched Steve. He deserved a treat, but Steve had been hesitant about going to What's the Batter With You. Too heartbroken -- was he heartbroken? It sure felt like it -- to see Bucky after finding out that he was engaged.

Although Steve had found out his crush was marrying another man a whole two weeks ago, it still felt fresh. As though every time he thought about it, it felt like he was picking at a scab, not letting it heal. Sure, Steve had been preoccupying himself with work, his old art hobby, and men from SHIELD -- admittedly, mostly Ian -- Bucky still drifted into his day-to-day thoughts every now and then.

Especially whenever he thought about treats for Vinnie, because damn Bucky Barnes for making such a healthy alternative that the Weimaraner actually enjoyed.

Sighing, Steve finished stretching his calves, he got an idea. Since he had ordered his own wedding cake from Barnes' Bakery, and since they still accepted orders from Bucky, maybe they would have some pupcakes. It was worth a shot, at least. Vinnie deserved it, after all.

So, Steve walked Vinnie towards the beloved bakery. Admittedly, Steve hadn't been there since he ordered his wedding cake. It had been too painful -- and too embarrassing -- for him for a long time. Stupidly, blaming himself for what happened that day, and afraid to show his face in public because he didn't want to hear the gossip.

Tying Vinnie's leash to the bench outside the bakery, Steve stalled by giving it a final tug. Knowing that he had to do this. Had to get over that unnecessary fear of what others were going to think. He had never cared about what other people thought of him until he met Brock, and he was annoyed that it had lasted even after Brock had moved on.

Inhaling, Steve pushed open the door and was overwhelmed with the mouthwatering aroma of fresh baked goods. Approaching the counter, Steve patiently waited for one of the employees. Not that he was in any hurry since he was studying the menu, trying to figure out what he wanted. There were so many appealing options, and after working up such an appetite, Steve could definitely get down on all of it.

"Hey!" That attractive familiar voice that was the soundtrack to his wet dreams greeted Steve, causing him to internally kick himself because nothing ever went the way Steve wanted it to.

Fixing a smile on his face, Steve turned to find Bucky. Nodding acknowledgement, glancing over the pastel pink t-shirt and the way it hugged tightly over Bucky's muscular pecs. Before Steve could help himself, he teased, "I'm sorry, sir, but you don't work here."

Out of breath in his haste, Bucky paused in tying the beige apron around him waist. Brows furrowed, Bucky glanced down at himself and then playfully rolled his eyes as he explained, "Yeah, I came to drop off some cakes. Dad hasn't been feelin' too well, so he's at the doctor's. And Teddy's runnin' some deliveries. Guess it's a good thing that the cake shop doesn't open until ten."

"Guess so," Steve agreed. Fiddling with his fingers as he said, "I hope everything's okay with your dad."

"Oh, I'm sure he'll be fine," Bucky waved off, finally tying the apron around his waist. A soft grin stretched across his face, "Thank you, though."

"Of course," Steve shrugged, knowing how worried he always got when his own parents got sick, and how a small reassurance could go a long way.

As Bucky turned to wash his hands, Steve's eyes roamed over his backside. Lingering for a moment on that glorious --

 _Get it together, Steve_ , he chastised himself, _he's practically a married man!_

Redirecting his gaze to the menu hung on the wall, Steve tried to focus on the words. When Bucky dried his hands and started speaking though, he found himself struggling again. Especially when Bucky prompted, "I haven't seen you around in a minute."

"Oh, uh," Steve swallowed as he thought. After all, he couldn't tell Bucky _why_ he hadn't been around. So, he went with the easier, half-truth, "Been busy with work."

Bucky mulled that over before admitting, "I never realized how truly terrifying that comment is until hearing it from a mortician."

Steve chuckled at that, running his hand through his slightly sweaty, shaggy hair and conceded, "Yeah, I guess that's probably not the best thing to hear."

"Ya got that right," Bucky smirked, leaning on the counter. Briefly biting his lip, Bucky asked, "So, what can I get for you today?"

"Well, everything smells so good…"

"Tastes good, too," Bucky assured with a shit-eating grin, and _yup_ , _that definitely could be an innuendo_.

"You have to say that," Steve waved off, good-naturedly rolling his eyes.

"Hey," Bucky chuckled, feigning offense as he jokingly defended himself, "I'm a man of my word."

"That's good to hear," Steve smiled, before that broken shard of his heart started twisting and reminding Steve of his unrequited attraction. Glancing down at his hands to gather himself, Steve vowed to look up other bakeries. Returning his attention to Bucky, Steve widened his grin, "Your fiancé is a lucky man." Then, because he felt like crying, Steve joked instead, "I know a good wedding planner -- oh wait!"

Bucky chuckled at that and nodded, "Yeah, he's taking the reins on it. Which is a relief. Planning a wedding is… difficult."

"I remember," Steve confirmed, chewing on the inside of his cheek to stop himself from tearing up.

"Oof," Bucky exhaled, remembering who he was talking to. Again. Sympathetically apologizing, "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, I brought it up," Steve swallowed around the lump that was forming in his throat. Trying to shift the mood to one more light-hearted, Steve complimented, "Hey, if you need any help, I know an amazing baker that makes a mean lemon cake."

Bucky's smile returned and he leaned across the counter to lower his voice conspiratorially, "If you think my lemon cake's good, you should try the strawberry rhubarb pie."

"Is that so?" Steve smirked.

"Mhmm," Bucky hummed his confirmation.

Realizing that he had been leaning across the counter, like a magnet drawn to Bucky, Steve wrenched himself backwards. What was he doing?! He should really have a better grasp on himself.

Running his hand through his hair for the sole purpose of having something to distract him from wondering how Bucky's lips would feel against --

_NOPE! Not doing this!_

Deciding that he needed to get out of there as fast as possible, Steve agreed, "Okay. I'll take one."

"One what?" Bucky's brows furrowed, causing the cutest expression to cross his face. An expression that, Steve knew, if Bucky was _his_ fiancé, he'd affectionately kiss right off. A moment later, Bucky remembered and he exclaimed, "Oh! The pie!"

"Yeah, the pie," Steve chuckled, wondering how everything led up to this exact moment, and why couldn't he have met Bucky sooner?

"I must admit," Bucky started as he packed the strawberry rhubarb pie into a Barnes' Bakery box, "I didn't make this. But my mom is the best pie maker around. I'd wager my whole shop on it."

"Well, if she's really _that_ good, maybe you should have pies at the wedding," Steve teased before he could even think about it. Instantly regretting it when he earned a full-belly laugh from Bucky.

"If I knew that Tony would be up for something a little less traditional, I definitely would," Bucky assured, ringing Steve up.

And then, as if possessed, Steve suggested, "If you ever need help with anything -- or just want to share possibly poor ideas -- you can call me."

Handing the pie and receipt over to Steve, Bucky bit his lower lip as he accepted, "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."

"Okay, then. Uh, bye," Steve pressed his lips together and quickly left the shop without another word on the subject. Simply shoving the receipt into his basketball shorts pocket and carrying the pie out to Vinnie. Trying not to think about what just happened as he untied the leash and rushed back to his apartment.


	23. Twenty-Three

**Twenty-Three:**

"Special delivery for a, 'Punk-Ass Bitch,'" Eddie exclaimed, entering the Rogers' family kitchen with a bag from What's the Batter With You and Vinnie.

"Edison Joseph!" Sarah chastised, pausing in her vegetable chopping, while Steve simply, playfully rolled his eyes.

"What?" Eddie chuckled, setting the bag down on the counter and unclipping Vinnie from his leash. He defended himself, "It was a message from Nat."

"Well, I still don't approve of _you_ saying it," Sarah stated, crossing the room to look into the bag of treats.

"When did Natasha say that?" Steve crossed his arms and leaned against the counter, amused.

"In general," Eddie replied, grabbing a bottle of water from the fridge and hopped up to sit on the island counter top. As he preoccupied himself by rolling the bottle between his hands, he prompted, "So, how're things?"

"How are things with _me_? Or…?" Steve knowingly smirked, quirking a brow.

Pulling the liner down on a vanilla bean cupcake with multi-colored sugar, she paused before taking a bite. Looking between her sons, Sarah asked, "Am I missing something?"

"Nope," they both said in unison.

"Uh huh," Sarah narrowed her eyes glancing from Eddie to Steve and then back to Eddie as she told him, "Off the counter. Counters are for glasses, not for asses."

Playfully, Eddie rolled his eyes and hopped off the counter. Still leaning on it though, he changed the subject by requesting from Sarah, "Do you think you can make a corsage for me?"

"Uh cor-sah-ge?" Sarah eagerly asked around a large bite of cupcake. Blushing, Eddie simply nodded and Sarah quickly chewed. Harshly swallowing, she questioned, "Does this mean that Daisy said yes?"

Blush darkening, Eddie shrugged. Clarifying, "We're going with a group."

"That's still good though," Steve encouraged. Playfully shoving at Eddie's shoulder, Steve offered, "We can go suit shopping later, if you want."

"Why are you going suit shopping?" Cliff asked as he entered through the back door with Birdie on his back. Shifting his daughter further up his back, Cliff's brows were heavily furrowed, "Don't you have suits?"

"For funerals," Eddie's face furrowed in an expression akin to disgust.

Sarah's expression matched Eddie's and she assured her youngest son, "Don't worry, you don't have to wear those to the dance."

"Thanks," Eddie scoffed, heading for the staircase. Pausing a few steps up to comically glance back at the oldest Rogers' son, earning an eye roll from Cliff and a loud chuckle from Steve. Even managing to get a gleeful giggle from Sarah and Birdie.

"What was that all about?" Cliff asked, once Eddie was on the second story of the house.

"He has a date to the Spring Formal," Steve cheerfully relayed.

"No shit?" Cliff questioned, easily catching onto Steve and Sarah's high spirits. Steve nodded and Cliff clarified, "With that one girl? The one with the flower name?"

"Daisy," Sarah confirmed, accepting Birdie into her arms.

"Dude," Cliff grinned, "That is seriously so awesome!"

"It definitely is," Steve agreed as he crossed the kitchen to grab a pupcake from the What's the Batter With You bag. Offering it to Vinnie and petting his head. Crossing his arms along his chest, Steve leaned on the counter, "Remember when Molly Hartman told you that she was wearing a lilac dress and she wanted you to match, and instead of getting a lilac vest and tie, you got a lilac tux?"

Cliff crumpled in his laughter as he joked about his younger self, "I was such an idiot."

" _Was_?" Steve chuckled, good-humoredly teasing his big brother. The very person that he had idolized so much throughout their childhood.

Playfully, Cliff narrowed his eyes and sarcastically laughed. Before he could retort though, the phone rang. Sighing, Cliff picked up the cordless receiver, "Rogers' Funeral Home. Taking care of your funeral needs with a family touch, this is Clifford Rogers speaking."

From whatever the person was saying, it caused Cliff to quirk a brow as he looked over at Steve. Allowing the person to speak for a minute, just giving, "Uh huh," when necessary. Steve's brows furrowed, wondering what the person was saying. Especially since Cliff hadn't left for the office yet. That, and he kept looking over at Steve, causing his brow to arch higher on his forehead.

"Who is it?" Steve whispered, stepping closer in hopes of overhearing the person on the other line.

Leaning further away from Steve, Cliff eventually told the person, "Yeah, he's right here."

Then, he quickly passed the phone to Steve. Steve's brows furrowed even further considering he didn't typically talk to clients. He mainly stayed in the basement with the deceased, and that was exactly the way he liked it. He wasn't good with people. Well, not living people anyway.

Holding the phone up to his ear, he answered, "Steve Rogers."

"Steve, hi!" Bucky's cheerful voice greeted. And then, as though Steve could ever forget his voice, Bucky reminded, "It's Bucky Barnes from What's the Batter With You."

"Right, hi," Steve started smiling before he could stop himself, "How are you?"

"Good," Bucky reassured, and got straight to the point, "I know that your brother came by the shop today with Vinnie, and I was wondering if Vinnie had a pupcake yet."

Glancing down at Vinnie, who was happily sleeping on the kitchen floor, Steve confirmed, "Yeah, I just gave him one."

"Okay, cool," Bucky said and Steve could hear the grin in his voice. Before Steve could ask why he was calling him -- especially why he was calling the funeral home -- Bucky started, "So, I tried a new recipe and I was wondering if Vinnie still liked it."

Blinking a few times, Steve clarified, "You called me to see if my dog liked your dog treats?"

"Well, yeah."

Chuckling, Steve reiterated, "Vinnie is a dog. I've seen him eat a diaper before. Sure, it was a clean diaper, but still a diaper."

Loudly, Bucky laughed on the other end of the line as he questioned, "Did you just compare my pupcakes to a diaper?"

Even with this being purely over the phone, Steve still blushed as he sheepishly admitted, "Inadvertently."

"Well, guess I'll just have to stay on the line until you compliment my cupcakes," Bucky teased, causing Steve's blush to darken.

"Technically, I didn't insult your cupcakes," Steve replied, catching Cliff and Sarah peeking out of the family room to watch him. Feeling like a teenager, Steve walked outside to sit on the deck. Trying to appease his crush, he playfully confessed, "My mom did eat one of your cupcakes in about two bites."

"Really?" Bucky asked, delight ballooning his tone.

Satisfied with making Bucky happy, Steve couldn't help but grin to himself as he confirmed, "Really."

"Well," Bucky paused, and Steve chewed on his lower lip as he waited for Bucky to continue, "Should I expect Eddie in a couple of days again?"

 _So, he had noticed_ , Steve internally mused as he blushed. Steve knew that he shouldn't be happy about Bucky recognizing the pattern of the past week. Ever since running into Bucky at Barnes' Bakery, Steve knew that he couldn't risk it again. Especially not with how intense his crush was developing. _Guess absence really does make the heart grow fonder_.

Then, something occurred to Steve, "Why did you call here?"

"You said I could call," Bucky defended himself.

"Right," Steve conceded, "But why _here_? At the funeral home?"

Bucky was quiet for a moment before answering, "Didn't have your number. Took a shot. But I… see now that it was stupid. Especially tying up the company line. I'm sorry. I just wanted to check up. See how things were going since I haven't seen you in a while."

Despite the pleasure that admission caused in Steve's chest, he couldn't help but question, "Why?"

"That's what friends do."

Steve worried his lower lip, "Is that what we are?"

Bucky chuckled his confirmation, "Of course."


	24. Twenty-Four

**Twenty-Four:**

Friends. Steve could be friends with Bucky. He could; he _would_. If he wanted Bucky in his life, he had to.

So, Steve took in a steadying breath and followed Sam into the bowling alley. Nervous about being around Bucky and his family, and dreading the possibility that Tony might be there. Sam had promised Steve that he wouldn't be. But considering what happened the one and only time that Steve had agreed to tag along, he wasn't going to dive blindly again.

_Fool me once…_

Hearing the group before seeing them, Steve couldn't help but smirk at the taunting. Clearly, the group was already in their competitive groove. With Maria jokingly threatening Carol, "If you don't get a strike, I swear to god, we are _never_ having sex again!"

Only for Teddy to counter, "Ya gonna let her talk to ya like that?! Show her who wears the pants!"

" _She_ wears the pants!" Carol giggled, tossing the ball down the lane and only knocking down three pins.

"What'd I miss?" Steve chuckled, joining the group, sitting down on the booth next to Becca in front of the bar seats.

"Hey, you're back!" Becca greeted him while running a hand over her pregnant belly. She admitted, "We were all concerned when Bucky said business was busy."

Sam gave him a pointed look at that, but didn't say anything. Instead, turned his attention back to the lane where Carol bowled a gutter ball, earning defeated groans from their team and cheers from the Barnes'. Steve blushed and falsely reassured, "I do more than just work on dead bodies."

"Yeah?" Bucky appeared out of nowhere, joining them with a basket of onion rings. Taking the seat on the other side of Steve, he offered Steve some of the fried food and questioned, "Like what?"

"What?" Steve repeated, eyes wide in shock. Already too preoccupied with Bucky just sitting next to him.

"The, 'more than just work on dead bodies,' stuff. What stuff is that?" Bucky conversationally asked, shoving one of those deep fried treats into his mouth. All the while, still somehow managing to stay attractive while doing so.

Steve hated him for it.

Digging himself an even bigger hole, Steve continued to exaggerate his role at the funeral home. "Well, there's caskets; ordering and placing them in the stock and show room. There's writing obituaries. Meeting with families. Finalizing arrangements. Arranging clergy and pallbearers. And, um, preparing the funerals. And filing death certificates."

"Wow," Bucky stated around a mouthful of onion rings. Swallowing, he bashfully confessed, "Here I was thinking that all you did was hang out with dead bodies all day."

"Isn't that just a foolish thing to assume," Sam teased, taking one of the onion rings from Bucky's basket and giving Steve a pointed look as he made his way towards the lane for his turn.

"See," Bucky chuckled. Using his hands in wild gestures as he explained his typical day, "All I do is bake and eat."

"Sounds like the perfect job," Steve bit back his grin when Bucky laughed even more.

Easing even further into the booth, Bucky casually draped his arm over the back of the seat behind Steve while placing the basket of onion rings on his lap. Steve stared at Bucky's lap and that basket of deep fried goods balancing on top of it, for entirely too long.

Ashamed, Steve redirected his attention to the game where Sam had bowled a spare. He couldn't be too triumphant, however, as Becca's husband, Arthur bowled a strike. The gangly redheaded man jumped up in vic --

"Well, ya know," Bucky grabbed another onion ring. As he shoved the food item into his mouth -- and drew Steve's attention to his perfect lips -- he playfully offered, "If you ever wanna intern, I'd consider it."

"I might just take you up on it," Steve agreed before his mind could comprehend what he was saying.

Rolling his eyes, a smirk tugged at Bucky's lips as he snorted in such a way that shouldn't have been attractive, but Steve was slowly figuring out that everything that Bucky did was attractive. Especially the way that he licked the onion ring remains from his fingers. The tip of his tongue poking out to swirl around the pad of his thumb, nonchalantly sucking the extremity into his mouth. Causing Steve's cheeks to heat with a blush that was already starting to spread over his ears and down his neck.

Shifting uncomfortably in his seat, Steve suggested, "Or even just as a guinea pig to try out new cake creations."

"Now _that_ ," Bucky placed the empty basket beside him, "I might actually take you up on. Lord knows that if I have one more lecture from Tony about how I'm trying to fatten him up, so that _I'm_ the only attractive one at our wedding, I'm going to lose my mind."

At the mention of Bucky's upcoming wedding and the casual drop of his fiancé's name, Steve's stomach plunged downward into a pit of guilt. Although Steve would've hated it if someone had flirted with Brock while he was busy planning their wedding, Steve found himself joking, "Well, luckily, I run all those calories off every morning."

"Is that right?" Bucky smirked, quickly glancing over Steve's frame before asking, "What time do you go running?

Assuming he was imaging it, Steve's brows furrowed, "What?"

"Would you mind if I tag along?" Bucky questioned, looking over Steve's muscular frame again as he clarified, "It might do me some good to actually work out, so I can fit into the tux that Tony picked out."

Torn between telling Bucky his body was a masterpiece and that he shouldn't try to fit into a body that _Tony_ wanted, not when Steve had _been there, done that_ with Brock. And the other option of…

"You let me taste test, I'll let you run with me and Vinnie," Steve offered.

The way Bucky lit up at that made Steve preen. Especially when Bucky held his hand out to Steve and agreed, "Deal."

Knowing that he was only breaking his own heart, Steve accepted Bucky's hand and shook on it, "Deal."


	25. Twenty-Five

**Twenty-Five:**

Normally, Steve didn't wake up an hour early to groom his beard and style his hair. Nor did he typically start the day by doing push-ups in hopes of making his muscles seem more pronounced. Even Vinnie was annoyed by his behavior as he flopped back down on the bed to sleep just a little bit more.

Somehow, even Vinnie knew just how ridiculous Steve was being! After all, it was just the first morning run with Bucky. It shouldn't have been as big of a deal as it was. Especially not with Bucky being engaged…

Yet, there Steve was, trying to make himself look better. For Bucky. For Bucky who was engaged. For Bucky who was engaged to his former wedding planner. The wedding that never happened. _Thank heaven!_

Steve tugged on a tight t-shirt. Was it too tight? Possibly. But Steve wanted to look his best. Even if it was just a casual run with his crush through the park with his dog.

 _Jesus, what am I doing?_ Steve chastised himself as he fixed his hair.

Trying not to think about all the ways this could go wrong, Steve grabbed his running shoes and sat on the edge of the bed. As he laced up, he glanced over his shoulder to Vinnie, the bed-hog. Smirking, he encouraged, "C'mon, sleepy head. Wanna go for a run?"

The Weimaraner's head perked at that, but he remained laying in the middle of the bed. Steve rolled his eyes and stood from his spot. Walking out of the room, Steve called over his shoulder, "Fine, I'll run by myself!"

Just like Steve knew it would, Vinnie hopped out of bed and rushed towards the door. Nearly knocking Steve over in the process. Steve wondered what Vinnie would do once he realized that Bucky, his favorite treat-maker, would be there. Imagining that he'd probably slobber all over the attractive brunet in a more literal way compared to Steve's figurative way.

Clipping his leash to his collar, Steve led the hyper Weimaraner out of his apartment. Being sure to greet the few neighbors who were up and about at the early hour. Briefly debating whether he should drive to their meet-up at What's the Batter With You. After all, Steve didn't want to get too winded and have to call it a short run. But he didn't want to arrive all sweaty either. But he didn't want to seem lazy…

Choosing to walk as a warm-up, Steve was still early once he reached the cake shop. Not that he minded. Simply stretching as he waited while Vinnie laid down on the ground like the lazybones he was.

That was when a low whistle came from behind Steve, causing him to pause in his stretching. Glancing down at Vinnie, Steve found the dog practically vibrating in his excitement as his tail waggled back and forth. Turning to find Bucky exiting the cake shop with a smug smirk on his face as he teased, "If you stood out here all day doing that, I'd probably get a lot more customers."

Steve's eyes roamed over Bucky, wondering how something so ordinary as a loose t-shirt and basketball shorts could be so attractive. Blushing, Steve dropped his gaze and wistfully joked, "But then you'd never get any work done."

"True," Bucky chuckled in his agreement while he locked the cake shop door. Facing Steve, Bucky bent over, flipping his shoulder length brown hair over and twisting it into a messy bun. Tying it with the purple scrunchie on his wrist, he straightened out and warned, "You'll have to take it easy on me. It's been a while since I've been running."

"You're lucky that Vinnie is lazy today," Steve feigned annoyance. But failed at keeping up the façade when Bucky playfully rolled his eyes and crouched before the happy dog. Being as trained as he was, Vinnie restrained himself until Bucky started petting him, then the dog started licking all over his face.

The park with the running trail wasn't far, so the pair casually walked the few blocks there. Steve's imagination ran wild with hope-filled fantasies of holding hands. Of playful, intimate touches. Of grins and bright eyes. Of having a person to do this with every morning.

Once arriving at the park, Bucky picked up a slow jog. Warming up for their run. So, Steve matched his pace, allowing Vinnie to do the same. Vinnie enjoyed it enough as his tongue lulled out of his mouth. Happily taking in his surroundings like he always did.

Eventually, Bucky picked up his pace. Bucky's stance was strong, his technique one that was precise. It made Steve wonder if he had done sports while he was in school. From the way he ran, Steve assumed that he had been.

After checking out Bucky's technique -- and possibly his impressive, firm glutes -- Steve sped up his pace as well, to catch up with the brunet. Vinnie was more than ready to run faster and Steve decided to give him some more slack on the leash, giving the dog the illusion of running freely.

"Race ya?" Bucky propositioned when Steve fell in step with him.

Positive that he'd do anything that Bucky suggested, especially with so much mirth in his tone, Steve questioned, "To where?"

Bucky looked around and smiled at Vinnie. Deciding, "The Falls? Then we can take a break at the dog beach?"

"Sounds good," Steve confirmed, "Ready, set, g--"

"Go!" Bucky gleefully shouted, taking off just a second before Steve.

"That's cheating!" Steve called after him, but had no actual qualms with the brunet taking off first. Giddily chasing after the man while Vinnie tugged him along.

Since Steve was used to running, he managed to easily catch up with Bucky. Then, because he wanted to win, he pushed himself even more. Thrilling in the way that Bucky pushed himself harder in an attempt to beat Steve, and how he grabbed the back of Steve's athletic shirt in hopes of slowing him down. Steve couldn't help but laugh at the brunet's efforts, but didn't stop.

"Ouch! Fuck!" Bucky abruptly let go of Steve's shirt and fell back.

Hearing Bucky's outburst, Steve skidded to a stop to find Bucky standing there with an agonized expression on his handsome face. His hands were on his hips as he balanced his weight on his left leg.

Giving the leash a slight tug, Steve doubled back with Vinnie keeping up beside him. Trying to catch his breath like how Bucky was trying to catch his, Steve asked, "Everything alright?"

Still breathing erratically, Bucky opened his eyes and nodded. Stretching out his right leg, he reassured, "Just haven't done this in a while."

"Well, we can take it easy," Steve offered, running his hand through his slightly sweaty hair.

"Sorry about holding you back," Bucky apologized, lifting his shirt to wipe the sweat off his forehead. Revealing an impressively toned abdomen that Steve had difficulty tearing his eyes from.

Steve thickly swallowed and dropped his gaze when Bucky dropped his shirt. Reassuring, "Nothing to apologize for." Then, remembering how Bucky had yelped in pain, Steve asked, "You're alright though? You didn't hurt yourself?"

"I'm fine," Bucky assured, reaching down and lifting his shorts enough to show his knee and the scars there. Bucky clarified, "Acts up every once in a while."

Before Steve can think, he questioned, "What happened?"

"Old track and field injury," Bucky explained, forcing himself to hobble along the path. Still heading for the Falls, Bucky continued, "Blew out my knee at a meet. And I mean, destroyed it. Torn just about every ligament I could and had to get surgery for it."

"Ouch," Steve lamely commented and immediately regretted it.

"Yeah, ouch," Bucky good-naturedly chuckled. He tightened his messy bun and confessed, "I think what hurt the most though was losing my scholarship."

Steve's attention snapped over to Bucky. It all clicked for Steve then and he found himself stating, "Jimmy Barnes, George Washington High, class of 2009?"

Bucky's brows furrowed and he confirmed, "Yeah?"

"Class of 2010," Steve revealed, then immediately blushed.

Redirecting his attention in front of himself, he couldn't believe that Bucky was Jimmy Barnes. Sure, they had never spoken before since they didn't have any classes together and Jimmy Barnes was one of the most popular guys in school. Hell, how many times had Steve passed a plaque with _James B. Barnes_ with a new record broken in long-distance or hurdling while on his way to the principal's office?

Really, Steve probably should've put it together sooner. Even if there were a lot of Barneses. Even if Bucky -- _Jimmy_ \-- had shorter hair back then. Had been slimmer with a clean-shaven, baby face.

"I, uh," Bucky faltered, bashfully keeping his gaze off Steve, "I'm bad at names… and faces. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," Steve sincerely assured. With a shrug, he clarified, "I didn't… I didn't look, like, um… this." Walking past the Falls to the dog beach, Steve added, "Plus, we didn't run in the same crowd."

Bucky physically flinched at that as he admitted, "Yeah, well, that, 'crowd,' was full of assholes."

"Yeah, I know," Steve chuckled as he confessed, "I think I fought about half of 'em."

Bucky looked at Steve. _Really_ looked at him. Studying him with narrowed eyes. That was when it clicked for Bucky, "Peeved Steve?! _You're_ Peeved Steve?!"

Blushing, Steve's brows furrowed as he grumpily muttered, "Didn't know they had a nickname for me."

"Oh, sorry," Bucky bit his lip as he reminded, "Always putting my feet in my mouth."

Steve didn't say anything, just nodded and unclipped Vinnie's leash so he could run into the shallow water. A small smile crossed his face as he watched his good boy having fun.

"I'm sorry for offending you," Bucky apologized.

"It's okay," Steve shrugged and conceded, "I was an asshole back then, too."

"From what I remember," Bucky started, shoving his hands into his shorts pockets, "You were sticking up for those who couldn't -- or wouldn't -- stick up for themselves. Doesn't sound like an asshole to me."

The blush on Steve's cheeks wasn't from embarrassment now. No, now it was from being complimented by his crush, so he playfully mused, "Peeved Steve. It's not that bad. No, Hot Steve, but I think it fits better."

Giggling, Bucky teasingly argued, "I don't know about that…"


	26. Twenty-Six

**Twenty-Six:**

"Well, here we are," Steve announced, reaching the cake shop. Internally face-palming because _duh_.

Unlocking the shop door, Bucky simply threw his head back as he chuckled. As though Steve was the funniest person he had ever met, and Steve couldn't help but love that feeling. Loving that he could manage to make Bucky laugh at all, let alone at something so lame as not wanting to say goodbye.

"Ya know," Bucky pushed open the door, but didn't enter the shop. "I think I might have some leftover pupcakes, if Vinnie would like one."

Vinnie's tongue lulled out and tail wagged as he gazed up at Bucky. Grinning, Steve looked up at Bucky too and agreed, "That'd be great."

"Great!" Bucky agreed before blushing. Tucking a loose strand of hair behind his ear, he led the way into the shop.

Staying put close to the door, Steve waited until Bucky was in the back of the shop before sniffing himself. Praying that he didn't smell too bad. But admittedly, he didn't smell the greatest. Sure, he could still catch the distinct scent of his cologne that he definitely wore on a run because there was no way -- absolutely, no way -- that Steve was going to risk exposing Bucky to his body odor, and deodorant. But he definitely needed a shower.

 _Oh, no_ , Steve's anxiety heightened as he insecurely wondered, _what if the pupcakes was just an excuse to get away from my stench?_

As Steve took another sniff of himself, Bucky exited from the back, catching him. With a quirked brow and a small white paper bag with the cake shop's purple logo, Bucky paused. Awkwardly, Steve lowered his arm and pressed his lips together in embarrassment, hoping that his blush wasn't too noticeable. But considering how his flush had eased with their walk back to the shop, Steve was certain that his cheeks were probably burning bright red now, and that Bucky would be able to reason why it was back.

Walking around the counter to Steve, Bucky stood significantly further back than he had before as he teased, "I knew I smelled, but I didn't think I smelled _that_ bad."

"What? No," Steve quickly gathered himself and reassured, "You smell fine. Good, even. I was just… checking… to see how bad _I_ smelled."

"All I smell is your cologne," Bucky informed, then complimented, "It's nice. I like it."

Steve bit back his grin. Bucky liked his cologne? Bucky liked his cologne!

Eyes widening as though he just realized he had complimented Steve without even thinking about it, Bucky dropped his gaze as an attractive flush covered his high cheekbones. Extending his arm out to Steve, he held out the baggy of treats.

Taking the bag, his fingers brushed along Bucky's and Steve asked, "So, when do you want to run again?"

"Well," Bucky thought, still not putting much of his weight on his right leg, "Tomorrow will probably be too much…"

While Bucky chewed on his own lower lip as he thought, Steve quickly assured, "We don't have to run next time… whenever that is. We can just jog. Or walk, if that's easier. I don't mind. It was just nice having a running buddy."

Realizing how pathetic he sounded, and not wanting to make Bucky feel guilty if he chose not to agree to another running date -- No, not a date. Definitely, not a date. No matter how much Steve desperately wished that it -- That was entirely beside the point. _What was the point?_

_Oh! Right!_

"Not that you… have to…" Steve bit the inside of his cheek as he floundered for words, "Just so you know."

Gracing Steve with a smile that crinkled all the way up to his eyes, Bucky offered, "Day after tomorrow?"

"Okay, yeah," Steve nodded his confirmation and turned for the door. Before he could get too far though, he turned back to face Bucky and asked, "Meet up here again?"

"Yeah," Bucky agreed, "Unless you'd prefer meeting at the park or something."

"Here's fine," Steve smiled and lifted his hand in a lame wave.

Although Steve was already internally cringing at himself, he was pleasantly surprised when Bucky lifted his own hand in a wave. Bumping into the door and almost dropping the bag of treats, Steve laughed at himself and led Vinnie out the door. Even though Vinnie was a dog, Steve was glad that he was more interested in the pupcakes than the joke of a man his owner was. Surely, if Vinnie understood what just happened, he'd be embarrassed to be Leonardo da Vinci Rogers. Hell, he'd probably disown Steve.

Steve ran his hand through his hair and walked back to his apartment. Okay, so maybe he ran; sue him.

Unlocking his door and unclipping Vinnie's leash, Steve allowed the Weimaraner to herd him towards the kitchen. Fully aware that Vinnie only wanted a treat and would do anything until he got one. Not that Steve could blame him.

So, setting the bag down on the counter, he opened it up. Delighted, Steve found that not only had Bucky packed three pupcakes, but he had also packed a cupcake for Steve. The thought alone was enough to make Steve weak in the knees. Handing one of the mini-cakes to Vinnie -- that he practically inhaled -- Steve reached into the bag to grab the one intended for himself.

Removing it from the clear container, Steve ate the apple slice garnish first. Now that that was out of the way, Steve pushed down the liner and took a large bite. Closing his eyes as he enjoyed the mixture of caramel buttercream, cinnamon cake, and apple pie filling, Steve nearly moaned at how delicious it was. As were all of Bucky's cupcakes.

Finishing the cake much faster than Steve wanted to, he was mournfully putting the bag up until he spotted something in the bottom of the bag. Reaching his hand into the bag, he peeled the card -- correction, _cards_ \-- from the bag's interior. One of the cards was a, _buy 11 dozens, get your 12th free!_ , punch card that Bucky had taken the liberty to update with a heart hole puncher. Steve's cheeks heated at, not only the puncher's design, but at the fact that he was already on his seventh dozen.

The other card was a typical business card. Only, once Steve flipped the card over, he found that Bucky had written his cellphone number on it. Steve's heart stuttered. Hell, it was more than stuttering, it was damn near having serious palpitations. He had Bucky's number! Sure, he was definitely looking too into the gesture, but how was he _not_ supposed to feel like he was on top of the world right now?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, my family is going through a difficult time. My stepdad's brother had a massive heart attack last week and has been in a coma since. Today, my stepdad got the call that his brother is not going to make it and is understandably having a very hard time with it. He is currently on his way to the hospital with my mom in hopes that the nurses will allow him to say goodbye. It's difficult time in general right now with the pandemic, but if everyone could please keep my family in your thoughts and send good vibes or what have you, that would be amazing.
> 
> I hope you're all doing well and staying safe!  
> Much love and appreciation,  
> Minnie ❤❤❤


	27. Twenty-Seven

**Twenty-Seven:**

It didn't take long for a routine to form. One that Steve was significantly more eager to go through with. Sure, it wasn't an everyday or even an every other day type of routine like Steve would've liked. But it was an every Monday, Thursday, and sometimes Sunday routine. And Steve would take anything he could get from the stunning brunet.

Monday didn't even seem so bad as Steve woke with a smile in relief on his face, remembering that he'd get to see Bucky after a long, depressing weekend. It had been a difficult funeral to prepare for. Steve always found kid funerals to be sadder than the other funerals. And the most recent one even topped that cake with three siblings dying in a car crash along with their mother. Seeing the grief on the father's face as he stood as the sole survivor from the crash, brought tears to Steve's eyes. But what was even harder for Steve was finding Joe in the office, sobbing into Sarah's chest as he tightly held her petite frame close to him.

As Steve brushed his teeth, he looked over a still sleeping Vinnie. Wondering if he should wake the exhausted support dog. It had been a long weekend for him, too, after all.

Finishing up his morning business, Steve entered his bedroom and crossed the room to his bed. Petting the sleeping Weimaraner, Steve asked, "Ready to go running?"

Groggily, the dog lifted his head and looked over at Steve. Steve kept petting the pooch and questioned, "Wanna see Bucky?"

Cocking his head to the side as he looked over Steve, Vinnie looked more awake than he had a moment ago. Not that Steve could blame him, since he felt the same.

It worried Steve sometimes. Almost like he was depending too much on the charming brunet. What was he going to do once Bucky thought he was fit enough for his wedding tux? What was he going to do if Bucky decided it was no longer okay for him to be spending so much time with a man that he wasn't engaged to?

 _We haven't spent that much time together_ , Steve tried to reason with himself as he tied his running shoes. Even as his mind ran over the past month and a half, and of all the times the pair had ran in the mornings, or the few times in the evening when either had work in the morning. Or the visits to What's the Batter With You in an attempt to remain the Best Uncle Ever TM.

Scrubbing his hand over his face, Steve decided he'd cross that bridge if and, or when, he got to it. For now though, he had plans.

Since Vinnie was just as attached to Bucky as Steve was, he allowed Steve to clip his leash and lead him out of their apartment. Forgoing his car the way he had every other time, Steve walked towards the little cake shop.

Once he got there, however, the door to the cake shop was still locked. Assuming that Bucky was getting things ready for opening, Steve knocked on the door.

At the sound of Steve's knuckles against the glass, Bucky popped his head out from the back. Brows furrowed, Bucky quickly made his way towards the entrance. Instead of the typical athletic gear that Steve was accustomed to, Bucky was wearing jeans, What's the Batter With You t-shirt, and a purple apron that he was wiping his hands on.

Unlocking the door, Bucky asked, "What are you doing here?"

Steve's brows furrowed as he tried not to let Bucky's brush-off sting too much while he lamely stated, "It's Monday."

"I texted you," Bucky clarified, patting the apron for his phone. Turning to look at his shop, he found the phone on the counter beside the register and opened it. Sighing, Bucky commented, "I meant to text you."

"Oh," Steve worried his lower lip with his teeth.

"Oh," Bucky confirmed, tightening the scrunchie holding his hair in a messy bun. Rounding the counter to wash his hands, he explained, "It's completely hectic right now. Shuri has the flu, Tibby's at school, Darcy is out of the country, Becca's in labor, and over half of the twelve dozens of cupcakes for the Pride Senior Prom are ruined."

Earnestly, Steve suggested, "I know that I don't know much about baking, but is there any way that I can help?"

Bucky's head snapped over to him instantly, causing Steve to freeze like prey. With glassy eyes fighting to contain tears, Bucky asked, "You'd do that?"

"Of course," Steve nonchalantly agreed. Then, hoping that his absolute infatuation and fondness for the brunet wasn't written all over his face, Steve shrugged a shoulder and teased, "What else am I going to do? Everyone else is sleeping."

"Thank you," Bucky accepted. Already the tension began to leave his broad shoulders as he instructed, "Lock the door." Drying his hands, he spotted Vinnie and said, "It's against health code for him to be in the kitchen with us, but he can hang out upstairs."

Vinnie's tail wagged at that and Steve followed Bucky over to back door of the shop. Bucky made a sharp turn just outside of the door and unlocked another door before climbing up the staircase. Steve wasn't sure why it never dawned on him that Bucky's apartment might've been right above the cake shop. He just always assumed that the cake shop was a neutral place to meet up at before their run.

Bucky didn't stop at the landing of the open apartment. Instead, crossing the black and white checkered kitchen floor, past the retro purple fridge, to the sink. Pulling down a bowl from the cabinet, Bucky started filling it with water.

All the while, Steve's eyes roamed around the apartment. Trying to drink as much of it in as he could. Piecing together who Bucky really was with every old photo framed on the wall and the white lace curtains on the windows facing the street. Sci-fi books crowded the bookcases while horror films and Disney Princess classics lined the entertainment center. On the back of the gray corner sofa was a yellow crocheted blanket, and Steve was certain that the plants dotting the open floor plan were fake.

"You have a really nice place," Steve complimented, bringing his attention back to Bucky as the muscular brunet set the bowl of water on the kitchen floor.

"Thank you," Bucky grinned so largely that it crinkled his eyes. Looking around his apartment as well, he admitted, "I keep trying to convince Tony to move in here. But he owns a house, so it doesn't make a whole lot of sense."

"That's a shame," Steve said, ignoring the way his stomach dropped at the mention of the luckiest man alive, aka Anthony Stark.

"It really is," Bucky agreed. Redirecting his attention back towards the bowl of water, he asked, "Will that be enough for right now?"

"Should be," Steve confirmed, unclipping Vinnie's leash.

Bucky's eyes were evaluating Steve when Steve righted himself, causing a blush to color his cheeks. Wondering if his possibly too-tight athletic top and shorts were too revealing. And although he wanted nothing more than to fidget, he refrained. After all, if Bucky knew that Steve caught him, would Bucky still look?

"Do you wanna change into something more comfortable?" Bucky asked, bringing his gaze to Steve's eyes.

Mind avoiding all the porn he'd seen with a premise just like this, Steve nervously chuckled and questioned, "What?"

Thinking over what he said, a beautiful red shaded Bucky's cheeks and he clarified, "To bake in. It can get pretty messy."

When Steve didn't say anything as he thought, Bucky headed down the short hallway to his right and entered the bedroom. Not sure if he was supposed to follow or not, Steve hesitantly crossed the apartment.

Holding up a spring green What's the Batter With You shirt, Bucky studied the garment and offered, "I'm not sure if it'll fit like your other shirts, but at least if you have a mishap with the food coloring, it won't stain your clothes."

Catching the tossed tee, Steve said, "Thanks."

"No problem," Bucky smiled and left his bedroom. Heading back for the stairs, he called over his shoulder, "I'll meet you in the kitchen!"


	28. Twenty-Eight

**Twenty-Eight:**

Pulling his athletic top off, Steve's gaze flittered around the bedroom. The same white lace curtains from the living room were also hung on these windows, brightening up the room. Steve wondered how Bucky ever slept in with so much light. And once Steve started thinking about sleeping in the rumbled purple tie-dye bedding, Steve knew that he should leave the room before he did something really impulsive, like, sit on the queen size bed.

Tugging the work shirt on, Steve gave Vinnie a pat on his head and left the apartment. As he entered the cake shop, he heard a clang followed with an exasperated, "Fuck!"

Entering the professional kitchen, Steve spotted the overturned mixing bowl and the large area of spilled flour and splattered egg. Bucky stood there, pinching the bridge of his nose in his frustration. Hoping to alleviate some of Bucky's current problems, Steve's eyes scanned the room until he spotted some dishtowels off to the side.

Quickly, Steve grabbed some and made his way over to the mess. Picking up the bowl and placing it in the sink, Steve crouched to mop up the would-be batter. Bucky removed his hand from his face, and his shoulders slumped in defeat as he said, "You don't have to do that."

"It's okay," Steve assured, "You're the baker, after all."

"You're totally getting free cupcakes for the rest of your life," Bucky confirmed as he washed his hands once more.

"Can I get that in writing?" Steve teased. Feeling thoroughly proud of himself when Bucky threw his head back and chuckled.

As Steve stood with soiled towels, Bucky gestured towards the trash can and said, "You can just pitch those."

"You sure?" Steve asked, already making his way towards the bin.

Bucky nodded, "I'm almost to the point of anxiety where I'm at peace. So, yeah, pitch 'em." Lowering his voice as though talking to himself, Bucky continued, "I have no time to clean egg off of rags that are ratty, stained to hell, and probably could've been tossed out months ago. I really need to listen to Tibby more."

Throwing away the towels on top of the ruined cupcakes, Steve headed for the sink. As he started washing his hands, he questioned, "What do you need me to do now?"

Bucky blew out a breath of air and looked over the kitchen. Returning his gaze to the island counter with all the ingredients, Bucky instructed, "Line the pan with liners?"

"Sure," Steve readily agreed with a soft, small smile, glad to not have to do any of the actual baking. Especially since Steve was almost a complete disaster in the kitchen.

Turning on the mixer, Bucky started mixing more batter. As Steve placed the rainbow pride liners in their correct spots in the pan, he couldn't help but daydream about doing this every day with Bucky for the rest of his life. Just contently domestic in every way.

As it turned out, it was a quick task that Steve finished faster than he might've originally assumed. Thankfully, Bucky knew exactly how to run a kitchen and already had a new job for him. Helpfully, Bucky directed, "You mind mixing in the food coloring?"

Finding some smaller bowls with batter and a couple drops of different color food coloring in each individual bowl, Steve grabbed a rubber spatula, getting to work. Catching the appreciative smirk on Bucky's attractive lips before Bucky ducked his head, returning his focus on the next batch of batter.

A blush started heating Steve's cheeks as he gazed down at the bowls. Slightly unfocused as the current batter turned a bright blue, the daydreams only grew more prominent. Imaging waking up to breakfast in bed on his birthday. Of trying new recipes. Of learning how to cook and bake to return the favor, but never being as good as Bucky; just enjoying the mess that the two would make.

Such pretty visions that came crashing down once Steve reminded himself that Bucky was engaged.

Quietly sighing, Steve moved onto the next batter. Really focusing on the way that the red took over the light batter, almost as though his own was bleeding in his heartbreak. Even Steve had roll his eyes at that too-dramatic thought.

Moving onto the next bowl, a loud knock broke his concentration. Brows furrowed, Steve glanced over at Bucky who was looking over at the clock. Cursing under his breath, Bucky turned the mixer off and raced towards the kitchen door. Peeking out from the door towards the front of the shop, Bucky cursed again.

Exiting the kitchen, Bucky popped back in and asked, "Can you get the birthday cake out of the fridge for me, please?"

Before Steve could even vocally agree, Bucky was already gone. So, Steve walked over to the industrial size refrigerator and found a large box. Peeking into the window of the box to see the dog bone shaped _Paw Patrol_ birthday cake proclaiming _Happy 4th Birthday, Brody!_

Carefully, Steve carried the cake across the kitchen. Being even more cautious as he pushed the swinging door open with his back. Feeling extremely confident in himself for not tripping over his own feet, Steve was blindsided when he spotted the man standing on the other side of the counter and nearly dropped the cake entirely.

"Hey! Watch it!" Brock reprimanded, reaching over the display case as though that would save the cake.

"Sor--" Steve squeaked then cleared his throat and sat the cake on the counter beside the register as he tried again, "Sorry."

Brock's expression went through a range of emotions from confusion to shock to recognition to faux nonchalance. Crossing his arms, Brock asked, "I thought you were going into the family business."

"I did," Steve confirmed.

Brock pointedly glanced at the What's the Batter With You work shirt and smugly smirked, as though catching Steve in a lie. Blushing, Steve crossed his own arms along his hard-won muscular chest while Brock conversationally questioned, "How have you been?"

Thickly swallowing, Steve nodded to himself, "Fine. You? I mean, I saw in the paper that you and your _wife_ welcomed your _third child_. So... congratulations."

Ashamed, Brock briefly averted his gaze and bleakly said, "Thank you."

Bucky, not knowing what was going on, good-naturedly teased, "Sounds like you have a handful with a new baby and a four year old."

"You have no idea," Brock scoffed and admitted, "That's nothing. My oldest is going to be six in November. _That's_ a handful."

A wave of nausea crashed over Steve, and he begged for the tears to stay back. It had been six years. Steve didn't want to be with Brock. On all accounts, Steve had moved on from Brock. Unfortunately, Brock had hurt him and Steve was sure that while time was supposed to heal all wounds, he'd always have a scar from the time he spent with the brooding brunet. Especially having the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with confirm that he had cheated.

"What about you?" Brock asked Bucky, "Do you have kids?"

Steve didn't miss the glance his way, and neither did Bucky. There was something in the way Brock looked at Steve that made Bucky narrow his eyes suspiciously. Handing Brock his card back, Bucky answered, "Not yet. Just happy with being the favorite uncle. Well," Bucky paused grinning adoringly over at Steve before amending, "Second favorite uncle."

Brock's jaw clenched as he looked from Steve to Bucky and back again. Shoving his wallet back into his back pocket, Brock grabbed the cake. Steve's breath hitched when the cake was almost dropped in Brock's haste to leave the cake shop.

Once Brock was gone, Bucky walked around the counter to lock the door. On his way back towards the kitchen, Bucky pointed over his shoulder and asked, "Who was that guy?"

"The man I was going to marry," Steve solemnly answered, turning to enter the kitchen so he wouldn't have to see the way Bucky's expression twisted with sympathy.


	29. Twenty-Nine

**Twenty-Nine:**

Back in the kitchen, Steve went back to his original task of mixing the colorful dyes into the liquidy batter. He didn't want to think about Brock, let alone see him. It had been six years. Six years since Steve had discovered the man he wanted to spend the rest of his life with had no desire to do the same with him. Six years since Steve sat crying in his living room trying to think of a way to explain his newly broken nose to his mom and especially how he'd explain it to Natasha. Six years since Steve entered into therapy for the first time. Six years since Steve vowed to never let anyone else close enough to break his --

 _Jesus_ , Steve rolled his eyes, _I sound like a broken record_.

As Bucky divided the new batch -- chocolate, it looked -- the same way he did with the white cake batter, he worried his lower lip with his teeth. The tenth time Bucky glanced up at him, Steve wondered if Bucky was ever going to, "Ask already."

The directness surprised the brunet, and he tripped over his words, "Did you, did you know that he was going to… going to… ya know?"

"Leave?" Steve supplied, dying his last bowl of light batter a vibrant green. Mutely, Bucky nodded. Steve pursed his lips as he reached back to the memories he had been trying to suppress for the last half decade. "Hindsight is 20/20."

"Right," Bucky agreed and weakly teased, "I've heard that before."

"I bet," Steve smirked. Then sighing as he settled, "There were little things that added up to big things. Honestly," Steve shrugged, "I should've realized it sooner. What with his internalized homophobia and how he never wanted people to see us together because of it."

Jaw briefly clenching, Bucky said, "That's just plain awful."

"That's not even half of it," Steve chuckled self-deprecatingly. Since he was thinking about it, he revealed, "I mean, for the first three months or so, whenever we were out together, he would still make it a point to pretend that we weren't together while he flirted on waitresses."

Shocked by this, Bucky just looked at Steve for a moment, not being able to do anything but blink at him. After a moment, Bucky stated, "Seriously, that's fucked up."

"Yeah," Steve nodded in agreement. "Of course, that's nowhere near as bad as the emotional abuse that I just shrugged off as, 'Sometimes My Boyfriend's a Dick.'"

"I don't even know what to say," Bucky admitted, "I kind of feel like crying."

"I've had six years to come to terms," Steve reassured.

"Six years?" Steve could almost see the way the gears were working in Bucky's mind. The brunet glanced over towards the front of the shop and vowed, "I'm never baking him or his family another cake."

Steve was the shocked one now and he quickly argued, "You don't have to do that. Really. I don't want to mess with your livelihood. I mean --"

"Steve," Bucky held up his hand to stop him. Steve snapped his mouth closed and Bucky reasoned, "It's my business, and I have the right to refuse that business. Why would I want a shitty person to promote my baking to his probably equally as shitty companions just so I can have _more_ shitty customers?"

Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, Steve decided, "Yeah, when you put it that way…"

For a moment, the pair was quiet until Bucky sincerely asked, "If given the chance, would you still go through with it?"

"I mean, if not for Brock, I would've never met you," Steve teased, earning an attractive blush from the brunet that Steve immediately filed away for later. Playfully, Bucky rolled his eyes, and Steve honestly answered, "Probably. As sad as it is now, I was so gone for him that I would've eloped after the first month."

"Wow, even with him making you a Bro and hitting on women in front of you?" Bucky solemnly huffed. Steve quirked a brow and Bucky quickly apologized, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have… That was insensitive."

Steve paused his current task to really study Bucky, " _Why_ are you asking?"

Bucky was back to worrying his lower lip with his teeth. And Steve hated the way that his heart jumped with premature hope. He shouldn't be happy about Bucky doubting his own relationship. Yet, the butterflies hatched from their cocoons to lazily flutter around his midsection at the smallest chance that Bucky might _not_ want to marry his fiancé.

"I love Tony, I do. It's just…" Bucky blew out a puff of air, "He can be a bit… much."

Steve brows rose high on his forehead, and he ducked his head to focus on the batter in front of him. Pressing his lips to keep a smile from escaping. This was definitely not the time to be cheerful.

No matter how happy his heart happened to be.

"Like," Bucky continued, "He's planning this really elaborate wedding and I'm not sure if it's because it's the wedding of his dreams, or if it's just an expensive way to advertise his business."

Conflicted, Steve lightheartedly added, "Well, the man does know how to plan a wedding."

Bucky winced, but before he could apologize, Steve asked, "Have you talked to him?"

"I've tried to," Bucky admitted, starting on another recipe while gesturing to the dyed batter, he instructed Steve, "Can you fill those liners halfway?"

"Sure," Steve agreed, doing as told by lifting one bowl of batter and pouring it into the rainbow cupcake liners.

"The thing is," Bucky turned on the mixer, "Tony reads too much into things and I don't want him to jump to conclusions. I mean, the last thing that I want Tony to assume is that I don't want to marry him."

When one bowl was done, Steve moved onto the next. His heart was racing as he reminded, "As someone who has gone through this -- and ended up getting left at the altar -- don't wait to talk about this."

Bucky turned off the mixer and lowered his voice to confess, "I'm just afraid that he won't take it very well."

"Take _what_ well?" Steve asked, "Are we talking about wanting a different centerpiece…? Or are we talking about wanting a longer engagement? Or…?"

"More like," Bucky wiped some extra flour off the counter, "I might be the Chapel O' Love type…"

"Might be marrying the wrong man," slipped out of Steve's mouth before he could think about what he was saying. His eyes widened once his mind caught up with his mouth.

All Bucky did though was chuckle; taking it as a joke. _Like my life_ , Steve internally deadpanned.

After a moment, Bucky wondered, "Do you ever think you'll give it another go?"

Chewing on his lip as he thought -- and tried _not_ to think about how he would run away with Bucky if he said the word -- Steve shrugged, "Maybe. Who knows, maybe when I find Mr. Right and begin again, I'll go the drive-thru nuptial route."

A large grin crinkled all the way up to his steel-blue eyes, "I think that's a marvelous idea." Then, he amended, "As long as I get to bake the cake, of course."

Licking some of the batter off his forearm, Steve confirmed, "You'll definitely be there."

"I see it's still true," Bucky chuckled.

"What is?" Steve asked, wondering how the batter had splattered and dripped onto him.

"The best way to a man's heart is through his stomach."

Steve looked up at Bucky then. Just in time to catch the wink sent his way. Blushing, Steve playfully rolled his eyes and continued filling the liners. Wondering if that way still worked if it was to a baker's heart.


	30. Thirty

**Thirty:**

"Now add the powdered sugar," Bucky instructed Steve with the cream cheese frosting while he made another batch of whipped cream frosting.

So, Steve did as told and added the powdered sugar.

As a cloud of white powder blew up from the mixer in front of him, surrounding the two men, Bucky switched Steve's mixer off as he amended, "Slowly."

Coughing Steve's eyes watered, as he choked and apologized, "Sorry."

"It's not your fault," Bucky reassured, "You didn't --"

 _Thump, thump, thump_ , the mixer that Bucky had been using started moving around unevenly as the frosting started taking on a thicker consistency. Muttering curses under his breath, Bucky turned off the mixer and blew out a huff of air in his annoyance and frustration.

Steve could only resist for so long before he was coughing out a laugh so powerful that he was doubling over with fresh tears streaking down his face. Amused, Bucky looked beside himself to Steve and placed his hands on his hips as he teased, "Did I miss something?"

Looking over the powdered sugar covering Bucky's face, clothes, and even matted in his messy bun, Steve couldn't help but to laugh. Loudly. To the point where he was grasping onto the counter to steady himself. And really, it shouldn't have been that funny, but Steve couldn't stop. If Natasha was there, he knew that she'd say he was love drunk, and maybe he was.

Maybe spending all that time with Bucky was finally making his head funny. Off-kilter with his infatuation. And despite Steve knowing spending all that time with him was wrong, he couldn't stop. Not now. Not when he was finally feeling more like himself.

For a moment, Bucky just stood there. Lips pressed tightly together with an unamused arch to his brows. Clearly waiting for Steve's current hysterics to end.

Which, of course, only kept Steve's chuckles from dying out. Even once the sound itself ceased, Steve's laughter didn't. Instead, he kept letting out these loud squeals that were quickly approaching a high enough octave that only dogs would be able to hear.

Casually redirecting his attention to the bowl of ruined whipped cream frosting, Bucky leaned over the counter to examine it. Scraping the tip of his index finger into it before removing his hand. For a moment, he just looked at it. Then, Bucky reached over and smeared the frosting down the slope of Steve's nose.

"Hey!" Steve complained, his giggles momentarily ceasing.

"Now that's funny," Bucky threw his head back and grasped at his chest while he loudly laughed.

"Oh yeah?" Steve challenged, peering into his own bowl of ruined frosting. Before he could change his mind, Steve reached in and grabbed a handful. Then, he threw it at Bucky's face.

For a fleeting moment, Steve worried that he had overstepped. That perhaps Bucky's reaction would be similar to the one he elicited from Brock all those years ago. After all, Steve was creating all the current messes when they should've been worrying about finishing up the treats.

Only, Bucky continued to surprise him as he tossed his head back and laughed. Still chuckling as he wiped the wet ingredients off his face with the end of his apron. Of course, that only brought flour, from earlier, into the equation and created a paste.

"You would _so_ be fired," Bucky playfully threatened. Reaching into his mixing bowl, he grabbed a handful of the butter-like substance. And since Bucky was doing it, Steve decided to, too.

As Steve tried to figure out how to grab more of the wetter, yolky-textured mix, Bucky was splattering the other batter on his head. Good-humoredly scoffing, Steve cupped more of the soupy mess into his palm and flung it at Bucky. Not wanting Bucky to get too far, Steve cupped more in his left and turned to splatter it in Bucky's hair.

"You asshole!" Bucky gasped, teasingly shoving Steve's broad shoulders.

Smearing more of the ruined icing on Bucky's face, around his mouth, Steve mocked, "You kiss your mama with that…"

Cutting himself off, Steve realized that Bucky was standing dangerously close to him now. Caging Steve in against the counter with his thick frame, it nearly caused Steve to choke again. Chests still heaving from their prior laughter, Steve brought his eyes up; trailing along Bucky's strong body. Gaze momentarily lingering on Bucky's lips as he wondered what they'd taste like. Even with the gunk all over it. However, when Steve's eyes locked on Bucky's, it took everything in him not to get hard right then and there. Because Bucky was looking at him too. Looking at Steve like he was seeing him for the first time.

"What is going on here?"

At the sound of the woman's voice, the men jumped away from each other and nearly out of their own skins. Standing in front of the exit, a curvy older woman with graying brown hair looked over the mess with wide eyes. When she returned her gaze to the men, she seemed entirely perplexed.

"Mom!" Bucky greeted the woman with a shocked gasp like a child getting caught sneaking cookies from the cookie jar before dinner. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, Becca and Sweet Baby Nadine -- yes, you have another niece -- are resting," she answered, stepping further into the room, purposely not stepping on any of the mess, "So, I thought that I'd help out since Mandy and Teddy were holding down the fort at the bakery."

"Congratulations, Mrs. Barnes," Steve happily interjected.

"Thank you," she paused for a moment, then prompted, "Who are you?"

"Steve." By default, he went to shake her hand, only to remember that it was sticky and slimy with the gooey ingredients.

As Steve instantly dropped his hand back to his side, he noticed the flash of recognition cross her expression before she corrected, "Winifred."

Mutely, Steve nodded. _Yes, this is exactly how I wanted to be introduced to Bucky's parents_. Sighing, Steve looked around at the mess -- that Bucky was attempting to clean up -- and couldn't even imagine what Winifred thought of this situation. And since Steve had helped in dirtying up the kitchen, he quickly got to cleaning it up as well. If only to make it easier for Bucky.

And hope that he didn't blow his chance at making a good impression with Winifred.

"So," Winifred started, still looking bewildered at the kitchen, " _How_ exactly did this happen?"

"Well," Bucky nervously chuckled, as he focused on wiping down the counter the best he could, all things considered. Was that blush creeping along Bucky's high cheekbones a figment of Steve's overactive imagination?

Empathizing with the brunet, Steve decided to take the fall, "I've never baked before, and I accidentally added the powdered sugar too fast."

"Ah," Winifred nodded, confirming that, of course, that was the catalyst. Peeking into the mixing bowl of the ruined whipped cream frosting, she teased, "Before or after you made butter?"

"Before," Bucky sighed, glancing over at Steve with a small smirk on his face. And as though he was _trying_ to kill Steve, he winked at the muscular blond.

Steve's heart stuttered and he quickly dropped his gaze to his new task of mopping up the mess on the floor. Hoping that with his head ducked, Bucky wouldn't be able to see the blush coloring his cheeks. Although, Steve was pretty sure that Winifred had spotted it.

Working as quickly and competently as possible, the pair worked in silence. The same comfortable silence that they had maintained during baking. Well, before the happy accident that led to them acting more like teenagers than the adults they were. Even now, the pair couldn't help but exchange the occasional smirk or soft chuckle under their breath while they worked, all while Winifred tended to the cupcakes.

Once most of the mess was taken care of, Winifred clapped her hands and instantly gained their attention, "Okay! I think that's good enough for now. You two go get cleaned up."

"Ma'am, yes, ma'am," Bucky sassed, dumping the soiled rags into the hamper. Tipping his head to the left, gesturing for Steve to follow him.

So, that was exactly what Steve did.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Health update (in case you don't follow me on insta):
> 
> 7/16: get tested for covid (has to be done nowadays due to pandemic)
> 
> 7/21: ureteroscopy to remove kidney stone (it's a process where they go up through the urethra and into the ureter where they they use a laser to break the kidney stone into a sand-like substance and suck it out)
> 
> 7/28: get stint removed (has to be done to drain my kidney after surgery and has to be in for a week)
> 
> 7/31: surgery to remove the cyst in my neck (which has been growing in the past three weeks??? But it's not cancerous, so that's a good thing at least...)
> 
> 8/4: meet new rheumatologist, so they can have control over my medications since my old one (that I've had for the past 5+ years) is leaving her practice and moving out of state. And I only found out about that last month... and she's leaving at the end of August... so, that's fun
> 
> 8/6: get the stitches in my neck removed (if everything goes well)
> 
> 8/12: My birthday. I'll be 29. I miss being 22 when I wasn't chronically ill and could sing along to Taylor Swift's song "22".
> 
> 8/14: infusion appointment that was originally supposed take place on 7/24, but can't happen in between surgeries.
> 
> Oh! I also have to get tested for covid a second time due to it almost being two weeks between surgeries. I'm just hoping that I'll be allowed to take painkillers after the first surgery since right now, I'm not allowed to take anything that will thin my blood. Which means that it feels like Drax is trying to cut his way out of my ureter. And I obvi love that for me...
> 
> So, yeah, it's going to be more hectic for me than Ant Man and the Wasp. I was hoping to have a lot more written/posted, but considering I'm not allowed to have any painkillers and am in even more pain, I definitely don't see that happening. Hopefully, the kidney stone removal won't hurt too much and hopefully the stint won't be too unpleasant.
> 
> Take care of yourself and your loved ones.  
> Wish me luck!  
> Much love and appreciation,  
> Minnie ❤❤❤


	31. Thirty-One

**Thirty-One:**

Following Bucky through the kitchen to the back of the shop and back up to his apartment. Vinnie hopped up from where he had been dozing on the velvet teal beanbag in the corner of Bucky's living room. Tail wagging like crazy, the Weimaraner approached the men and instantly started licking wherever he could to get some of that ruined frosting.

"Down," Steve chuckled when Vinnie acted as though he was going to jump up on him. And since he was the well-trained good boy that he was, he listened. So, Steve scratched between his ears and praised, "Good boy."

"I think he deserves extra p-u-p-c-a-k-e-s," Bucky spelled out in case Vinnie understood while he entered his bedroom.

"I don't know," Steve teased. For a moment, he just stood there. Awkwardly wondering if he should follow Bucky or wait there for further instructions.

Not even a moment later, though, Bucky returned with clean clothes in his hands. Gesturing towards the bathroom across the hall from his bedroom, he informed, "You can have first dibs."

"Thanks," Steve worried his lower lip with his teeth while taking the clothes. Trying to suppress just how powerful of an affect the simple brush of their hands had on Steve. Glancing up to see Bucky pulling the scrunchie from his hair, letting the tangled, gooey strands cascade around his shoulders.

Bucky was beautiful.

And Steve was in trouble.

Not only was Bucky his friend. But Bucky was his _engaged_ friend. _What the fuck am I doing?_ Steve couldn't help but question himself. Aloud, he asked, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Bucky reassured with a small, private grin.

Inching towards the bathroom, Steve teased, "I'll try to save you some hot water."

"Showering together would help, if that's a hard issue for ya," Bucky stated. It took all of half a second for Bucky to realize what he said.

Sporting matching blushes and wide eyes, Steve was rendered speechless while Bucky rambled, "That was a joke. That was definitely a joke. I don't want to shower with you." Somehow, Bucky's blush darkened, and he continued, "Not that there's anything _wrong_ with you. I mean, _look_ at you. You're practically a walking wet dream." Somehow, _Steve's_ blush darkened, and Bucky continued, "I mean, those shoulders? That beard? Those eyes? We've talked about how I had a thing for lumberjacks. Really, it was like a third gay awakening. The first being when I eight and I was wanting to be G.I. Joe one minute, and then the next I wanted to be _with_ G.I. Joe. Of course, at eight I really wasn't thinking about liking anyone, let alone boys more than girls. With the second being -- And this isn't me coming on to -- I'm engage-- I'm gonna stop talking now."

Blinking, Steve tried to make sense of it all. More flattered by that disaster of a rant than by any relationship he had ever been in. Biting back his grin, Steve appreciatively questioned, "Thank you?"

"You're welcome," Bucky tensely confirmed, before awkwardly walking around Steve to the stairs as he suggested, "Please, try to save me some hot water?"

"I'll think about it," Steve teased, entering the bathroom.

Quickly closing the door, Steve rested against it for a moment. Heart racing as he tried to settle himself down. Only, he didn't want to try and talk himself out of Bucky's compliments. Although Bucky was getting married to another man, Steve wanted to believe that maybe if things had gone differently, _he_ could've been that man. And more than anything, his teen self would've died from happiness if he found out that one day Jimmy Barnes, the track star, thought that he was attractive.

Forcing himself away from the door, and directing his attention to the clawfoot tub with the bumble bee patterned shower curtain. Just above the tub, a beehive bathmat proclaimed, _Bee-utiful!_ Everything from the pale blue walls to the black and white checkered tile floor to the fluffy sunshine yellow towels, was adorable.

Steve hoped that Anthony Stark appreciated being loved by Bucky the way Steve knew _he_ would, if he happened to be so lucky.

Instead of wasting any more time, Steve efficiently removed his clothing. Trying to gather most of it from his hair into the work shirt, Steve placed that in the sink. Only once he was naked did he suddenly wonder if he should've asked Bucky how his shower worked. Of course, then Steve wondered if Bucky would've even done so, considering how flustered he had been.

A smile tugged at Steve's lips as he thought back to it now. Hell, it made him so giddy that it even earned a twitch from his flaccid dick. Which, he really needed to be careful with that. But his crush practically admitted to reciprocating that crush, so sue him.

Luckily, Bucky's shower was basic and easy to figure out. Soon enough, he was standing under the hot spray while he lathered Bucky's lavender shampoo in his shaggy blond hair. Taking in big, lungful whiffs of the scent and trying to picture what it'd be like to wake up beside Bucky and nuzzle his face in those seemingly soft brown tresses. Wondering what Bucky looked like with toothpaste foam around his mouth when he brushed his teeth. Or if he sang in the shower. Or any other domestic task that others who had been privileged enough to witness probably took for granted.

Almost losing himself in his daydreams, Steve shook his head and quickly washed the rest of his body. After all, he didn't want to leave Bucky with a cold shower.

At least, not unless it was due to Bucky getting hot because he was thinking of him.

 _Nope!_ Steve quickly dried off and chastised himself, _Don't go there_.

Nevertheless, Steve did want Bucky to think of him. Whether it was something positively filthy that would definitely cause Steve to blush if he ever found out about it. Or if it was simple, day-to-day stuff. Like passing someone wearing a flannel, and think of Steve. Maybe even try out a new cupcake recipe and wonder what Steve would think of it.

Sure, Steve knew that he was setting himself up for failure with having hopes like that. But he couldn't help himself. It was difficult not to fall in love with--

Just like that, Steve lost his footing and his stomach dropped from the top of the Empire State Building. How could he be in love with Bucky? More so, how could he not realize it sooner?


	32. Thirty-Two

**Thirty-Two:**

"You're right on time!" A black woman with fascinating tattoos on her bald head approached them. Easily accepting the boxes of cupcakes that Bucky handed her and led the way into the banquet hall. Glancing over her shoulder to the men, she admitted, "When I got your message this morning, I was afraid that you'd have to cancel."

"Oh, I'd never do that," Bucky assured, making his way around to the concession table.

Bringing up the rear, Steve was more cautious with his boxes. It had taken all day to make these, and he wasn't about to do something stupid like get distracted and drop them. So, he was slower than the other two. Not that they seemed to mind.

However, the set up caught Steve's eye. The rainbow colored streamers and multicolored balloon arches caused his lips to tug upwards. What brought the full force of his smile though was the couples already dancing to the live band. An upbeat jazzy tune had them all moving as though they were no older than teens, even if their gray hair and wrinkles said otherwise.

"When you said prom, I didn't think you meant an actual prom," Steve quietly confessed to Bucky as he started following Bucky's lead by opening the boxes of cupcakes.

"A lot of these people never got to go to their high school proms with the people they really wanted to," the woman informed. She shrugged a shoulder, "So, it's nice to give them this."

"Better late than never," Steve agreed, glancing over the prom goers. His smile growing as he watched two older man holding themselves close as they swayed out of tempo with the music. Wistfully, Steve longed for a love like that.

Redirecting his attention to the concession table, Steve let Bucky arrange the cupcakes on the five-tier round stand. More than happy to hand the reigns over to the brunet since he was the professional. Might've helped that Bucky was damn attractive when he was focused, too.

Eventually, Steve forced himself to look elsewhere so he wouldn't seem creepy. Choosing to watch the older couples act young for at least one night. Enjoying the way that they seemed happy, and hoping that some of their glee would rub off on himself.

"I don't know about you, but this is way more fun than my senior prom," Bucky whispered, playfully nudging Steve's shoulder with his own.

Steve glanced over at Bucky before bashfully dropping his gaze to his feet while he confessed, "Yeah, I definitely wouldn't choose to go back if given the chance."

"I would," Bucky dramatically sighed, then he admitted, "There are some things I'd do differently, if given the chance."

"Yeah?" Steve nodded. Even though the pair had grown closer and gotten to know each other better as adults, and Steve was fairly certain that he knew the real Bucky, he still couldn't help but internally scoff, _of course, Jimmy Barnes would want to relive high school._

"Yes," Bucky confirmed, then admitted, "For one, I wouldn't have stayed in the closet for so long."

Surprised, Steve mutely arched a brow at the brunet, but didn't vocally question it. Instead, he let Bucky talk. If he wanted to, that was. However, Bucky, instead, extended his hand to Steve and suggested, "C'mon. Let's dance."

"Seriously?" Steve nervously chuckled while his cheeks heated. Bucky nodded and Steve gestured towards the concession table where the woman was still setting up, "We should get back to work."

"Nonsense," she encouraged, "Go, have fun."

"Thank you, Okoye," Bucky sing-songed, deciding to take Steve's hand since he wasn't moving, and nearly dragged Steve onto the dance floor.

It didn't take long for Bucky to tug Steve around like a rag doll. Bumping hips and shimmying shoulders in time with the upbeat song. Even wiggling his eyebrows to get a laugh out of Steve. For a moment, Steve even forgot about how awful of a dancer he was, and just let Bucky control his movements.

Then, on a mid-twirl, the song changed. Trumpets playing a familiar tune. Something that brought a certain nostalgia to Steve, even though he couldn't quite place it yet.

Before he could think about it too long, Bucky pulled him back into himself. Stumbling over his feet, Steve crashed into Bucky when he turned to face him. Knocking a huff of air out of Bucky in the process, and causing a deep blush to cover Steve's cheeks. Especially once Bucky placed Steve's left hand on his shoulder and placed his own hand on Steve's waist. With their hands, Bucky gave Steve a comforting squeeze before leading.

As Bucky led, he teased, "Ever thought you'd dance with the prom king?"

"No," Steve laughed at the situation. Turning it on Bucky, he questioned, "What about you, Mr. Popular? 'D ever think you'd be dancing with Steve the Peeved?"

"Peeved Steve," Bucky solemnly corrected. He shook his head, and surprised Steve as he said, "I'm really sorry about what happened back then. It wasn't right. And I'm sorry that I didn't do more."

"It's okay," Steve brushed off. Sure, that was everything high school Steve would've loved to hear. But now, as an adult, he didn't know what to do with such an apology.

"It's not," Bucky argued. Briefly biting his lip, as though debating himself, Bucky continued, "Ya know, I tried to jump in one time. Junior year. There were five guys ganging up on ya, and it wasn't right… I think I got three punches in before the principal got me. And since I was a, 'good kid with a bright future,' I was given a warning.

"When you got back from suspension, I tried to talk to you. See if you were okay. But chickened out when my _friends_ caught up to me in the hallway. And I think that's one of the things I regret most. Letting that fear of what others might think, affect me so much," Bucky finally brought his gaze back to Steve's. As if he could get anymore genuine than he already had been, Bucky apologized again, "I'm sorry, Steve. Truly."

"I forgive you," Steve sincerely accepted.

A soft smile tugged at Bucky's lips again as he pulled Steve just a little closer. On stage, the singer crooned, " _Never thought that you would be, standing here so close to me_."

But Steve was more focused on the way Bucky sang off-key, " _There's so much I feel that I should say, but words can wait until some other day_."

Taking a huge leap in faith and a stumble into bittersweet, Steve brought himself closer to Bucky. When Bucky didn't pull back, and instead, wrapped his arm more securely around Steve's waist, Steve rested his head on Bucky's broad shoulder. Intimately swaying slowly to the music, Steve could almost pretend that this was his forever.

_You'll never know how many dreams_   
_I've dreamed about you_   
_Or just how empty they all seemed without you_


	33. Thirty-Three

**Thirty-Three:**

For a moment, the pair just sat there in the purple delivery van behind What's the Batter With You. The cake shop was closed with all the lights off, and Steve knew that he should leave. But he desperately didn't want to. Being around Bucky was like nothing Steve had ever experienced before.

However, they couldn't just sit there forever. No matter how badly Steve wished they could.

"Do you," Bucky started at the same time that Steve reluctantly began, "I should."

Upon hearing each other talk at the same time, they stopped and looked at each other. Both offering, "You go," and, "No, you," before erupting into giggles. Steve made the choice for them and pointed to Bucky. Allowing him to go first because Steve wasn't ready to tell him goodbye just yet.

"Do you want to order in some food and watch a movie or something?" Bucky asked, chewing on the inside of his cheek while looking up with such hopeful eyes that Steve forgot how to breathe for a second.

"Um," Steve eloquently stated as he managed to get his mouth working again. Glancing away from the tempting brunet in front of him, Steve figured that Bucky was probably only doing this to be nice, "That's okay. You don't have to do that."

"I want to," Bucky assured. Instantly, Steve's gaze snapped back to him, just in time to see Bucky suddenly not looking so sure of himself now. Tightening his scrunchie, Bucky gave Steve an out, "It's okay though. I mean, you did take time out of your day -- literally all day -- to help me out. Which, I really appreciate. I just thought that maybe this could be me… kind of… paying you back for everything."

Biting back his grin, Steve feigned exasperation as he agreed, "Okay. If you insist."

"I do!" Bucky enthusiastically exclaimed, causing Steve's heart to stutter and clench in his chest. Especially once images of Bucky in a nice suit, in front of Steve, holding hands before their loved ones while they were called husbands and could now kiss each other, flooded Steve's mind.

It only took a second for Steve's heart to break as he reminded himself that he'd never personally see that image come to fruition. No, _Tony_ was going to be the lucky one. And although Steve had found the man pleasant enough when they were planning his own wedding all those years ago, he hated him for this.

"So, what are you in the mood for?" Bucky asked, leading the way up the stairs to his apartment.

Taking a deep breath as he pointedly attempted not to stare at Bucky's firm ass -- which proved to be a hell of a lot more difficult than it really should've been -- Steve turned the question back to him, "I'm not sure. What are you in the mood for?"

"Uh uh, you're not getting off that easy," Bucky smirked over his shoulder and crossed the apartment to his bedroom.

From the corner of his eye, Steve caught a sliver of the nauseatingly attractive brunet changing out of his jeans. Quickly, Steve moved away from the kitchen and sat on the sofa, safely against Bucky's bedroom wall so there was no way he'd be able to see the unintentional strip tease.

"This is my gift to you," Bucky called, still in his bedroom.

 _Get your mind out of the gutter, Rogers!_ Steve reprimanded himself while he tried to think of actual food instead of how Bucky's lips would taste. Or what kind of noises he made while being eaten out. _Christ!_ Steve ran his hand through his hair, taking in a deep breath and holding it. Hopefully, he'd be able to asphyxiate before he popped a boner.

"Well?" Bucky prompted, standing next to the gray sofa where Steve was sitting.

Glancing over, Steve wished that he hadn't. Because, for the love of god, Bucky was the epitome of titillating. In a pair of gray sweatpants and a loose blue tank that revealed just how fit he was. Which, _Jesus Fucking Christ_ , Bucky didn't need to worry about slimming down to fit in a suit, he was a masterpiece. Mouthwatering so.

Thickly swallowing as he forced his gaze up to meet Bucky's, even though he was currently preoccupied with twisting his brown hair into a bun. The way his muscles bulged with the movement, caused _another_ bulge to try and make themselves known.

Situating himself so his half-erect friend would remain hidden and ignored, Steve rested his elbows on his knees and shrugged, "Mexican?"

"Yes!" Bucky happily agreed as he plopped down on the other side of the sofa. Plugging in his cellphone, Bucky effortlessly lounged with his feet on the chaise portion of the couch while he texted away on his phone. While Steve nonchalantly -- he tried at least -- looked over Bucky's frame, the momentarily preoccupied brunet joked, "I'm always a slut for tacos."

Biting his lip so aggressively that it nearly bled, Steve chuckled under his breath. Not knowing what else to say, he simply agreed, "Yeah, I know what you mean. They're the best."

"Right?" Bucky chuckled as he sat up. Sitting up and moving closer, Bucky tilted his phone so Steve could see the screen too.

Reading the menu, the pair stayed huddled together while Steve wondered if he smelled like sweat. Or tried to remember how to breathe. As they scrolled through the menu, Bucky easily clicked on the items that he wanted to order. Whenever he did that, he always tilted the phone a little more to Steve. Nonverbally communicating that Steve was allowed to do the same.

"If I get an order of the mini-chimichanga starters, will you eat some?" Bucky asked, looking over at Steve.

With how close they were sitting, and with how Bucky was now facing him, his breath ghosted across Steve's cheek. Steve suppressed a shudder and nodded, "Yeah, that's fine."

"Cool," Bucky smiled and returned his attention to his phone. Not scrolling further, Bucky giggled, "Are ya gonna order anything for yourself?"

"Of course," Steve nervously scoffed, reaching for Bucky's phone. Almost cautiously so, to see if Bucky would move it out of his grasp. When he didn't, Steve curled his hand around the phone and bit his own lower lip when their hands brushed.

Goosebumps started forming on Steve's skin at the warm, tender touch from Bucky. Bucky must have noticed, too, because he turned to look over at Steve. And since he was looking, Steve decided to as well. Mind practically blanking out when he watched Bucky's gaze drop to his lips and linger there for a moment before slowly bringing his eyes back to Steve's.

Thickly swallowing, Steve chose to ignore the butterflies in his stomach that were so actively fluttering it felt like they were wafting flames throughout his body. Warming him from the inside out from just the way Bucky was looking at him. As the moment stretched on, Steve was positive that he'd be fried alive with how badly he wanted to kiss the attractive man beside him.

Then, Bucky leaned in and pressed his lips to Steve's. A startled sound escaped Steve before he could stop himself. However, it didn't take long for Steve to instantly start kissing back, because _hello, this is Bucky!_

Now, actively participating, Steve licked the tip of his tongue along the seam of Bucky's lips, asking permission to deepen the kiss. With the small moan that earned him, Steve was positive that he'd die if this went even further. Especially once Bucky brought his hand around to the back of Steve's neck where he reached up and tangled his long fingers in Steve's shaggy hair.

Passionately deepening the kiss, Bucky decided that they should be even closer as he threw his right leg over Steve's lap to straddle him. Steve couldn't suppress his groan, and when Bucky moaned at that, Steve decided that he wasn't going to silence himself next time.

Dropping his hips, Bucky briefly rutted against Steve's hardening cock, revealing that he, himself, was also developing an impressive erection. Steve's right hand slid to Bucky's waist while his left hand tangled in his messy bun, pulling the brunet closer to himself.

Abruptly, Bucky broke the kiss to start peppering them along Steve's prominent bearded jaw. Breathlessly, Steve tilted his head back, to give Bucky more skin to kiss as his soft lips trailed down his neck. The little nips Bucky gave his flushing skin were like bolts of electricity running through his body and settling in his balls.

 _God, why haven't we done this before?_ Steve couldn't help but wonder.

Only, then did it come back to him. Hard. Like getting hit by a speeding bus, Steve was reminded all too quickly of _why_ this hadn't happened. And Steve refused to be a part of this. He knew what it felt like to be cheated on, and he'd be damned before he did the same to someone else.

No matter how bad he might've wanted Bucky.

"I can't do this," Steve declared, pushing Bucky off his lap and back to the couch. Standing up, Steve scrubbed his hand over his face and tucked his boner as he decided, "I need to leave."

"What? Why?" Bucky questioned as he kneeled on the couch, brows set in a heavy furrow and erection tenting his sweatpants.

"You're engaged," Steve reasoned, crossing the apartment to slip on his shoes.

"Tony and I have an agreement," Bucky divulged, standing from the sofa to follow Steve, "As long as we're safe, we can partake in consensual acts of passion before the wedding."

Steve simply shook his head, " _I_ can't do this."

"I thought you'd want to," Bucky admitted, his expression twisting into one of hurt.

"Fuck, Bucky, _of course_ , I want to! That's the whole problem," Steve confessed.

Bucky shook his head, still confused, "That doesn't sound like a problem. If you're worried about Tony, it's okay. He's been sleeping with other people, too. And it doesn't have to mean any--"

"I _want_ it to mean something, because it would mean _everything_ to me, Bucky, because I'm in love with you!"

Both men stared wide-eyed at one another for a moment. Before Bucky could say anything, Steve realized, "I don't think we should hang out for a while. I just… I, I don't, I don't think it would be a… good idea."

Turning, Steve started down the staircase. He didn't hear Bucky following him, and perhaps it was for the best. If Bucky followed him, there would be no way that he'd leave. So, this was for the best.

With his hand on the doorknob, Steve hesitated. Remembering the conversation they had just that morning. Where Bucky was asking if Steve knew that Brock was doubting their wedding.

Not turning around, Steve called over his shoulder, "If you're doubting whether this wedding is a good idea, you need to talk to Tony. You're supposed to work through these things together. And he deserves to know. Before the day. Because, trust me, being the guy left at the altar fucking sucks."

And with that, Steve left Bucky's apartment.

Taking off in a sprint, Steve ran across town until he stopped in the lawn of his family home. Flushed and out of breath, Steve forced his jelly-like fatigued legs to carry him around to the family side of the house. Grateful to find his father in the kitchen, making his mom's nightly cup of lavender tea.

"Steve?" Joe questioned, looking at his son with concern. "What's wrong, sweetie?"

That caused the dam to break and Steve's tears to fall. As Joe crossed the room to comfort him, Steve's knees gave out on himself. Easing themselves down on the tile floor, Joe soothingly smoothed Steve's hair while softly shushing his cries.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, it's Sunday and my surgeries are on Tuesday...
> 
> Trying to transform my anxiety into creativity, doo da doooo


	34. Thirty-Four

**Thirty-Four:**

"And I just…" Steve trailed off. Lifting the floral mug of lavender tea to his lips in hopes of gathering his thoughts.

Across the table, Joe patiently waited. Reaching over to Steve to soothingly squeeze his hand. Knowing that Steve always did best when he wasn't pressured into talking about whatever was on his mind. And Steve appreciated that from his dad.

Worrying his lower lip as he set the mug down on the table, Steve placed his hands on the smooth light-stained wood. Finally, admitting, "I'm in love with him, Dad. Like, really, _really_ in love with him."

"I know you are," Joe assured, leaning forward to rest his arms on the table. "I mean, it hasn't exactly been a secret around here."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Steve wetly scoffed, feeling more tears starting to prickle at the corners of his eyes.

"You know what it means," Joe playfully accused. Winking over the rim of his mug as he went to finish his tea. Setting the porcelain back down in front of him, he shrugged, "You've been…"

"Happier?" Steve guessed, since he had heard it a couple of times. Typically from Eddie and even Wanda occasionally.

Joe simply shook his head and corrected, "More yourself. Not so caught up in your head. Even smiling more. It was nice."

Solemnly, Steve couldn't help but agree. He had already thought the same. Of course, that didn't make it any less… sad.

"Not that we don't love you the way that you are no matter how or who you are," Joe quickly amended, taking Steve's silence as hurt.

"No, I know," Steve confirmed, sniffling.

Joe's brows furrowed in his concern and heartache from watching his son's heartbreak. Giving Steve's hand a squeeze, Joe wanted Steve to know, "I'm proud of you, Steven."

"Why?" Steve scoffed, leaning back in his seat. Crossing his arms along his chest, Steve purposely kept his gaze down as he admitted, "I fell in love -- and made out -- with a man who is engaged to someone else."

"You're human," Joe reminded with a soft chuckle. Scratching his hand through his graying hair, Joe informed, "I'm proud of you for knowing what you weren't willing to do, and stopping it. For far too long, I've seen you put your own needs on the backburner. But knowing that you're sticking up for what you believe in is a good thing. It's what I've always admired about you."

Blushing, Steve wasn't sure what to say to his father's praise. Sure, it wasn't the first time that Joe had spoken so candidly about Steve to Steve, but it still made Steve's cheeks heat. Something close to embarrassment and pride twisted in Steve's gut as he tried to keep the tears from spilling over his eye's rims.

Instead of drawing attention to Steve's emotional moment, Joe silently gestured towards the mug in front of him. Steve shook his head, letting his dad know that he could take care of them. For a moment, Steve wondered if he should go. Only, he didn't want to leave. Not yet. Yes, it was late. But he wasn't ready to take Vinnie back to his quiet apartment where he'd be so alone.

"You know," Joe started, stretching his arms above his head and offered, "You can stay in your old room, if you want."

"Yeah?" Steve asked, his lips twitching up just a bit.

"Yeah," Joe confirmed. As he stood by the light switch, he teased, "Of course, we retired your old _Star Wars_ sheets, so I hope that's okay."

Pushing in his chair, Steve good-humoredly scoffed, "Please, they weren't even mine to begin with."

"They weren't?" Joe's brows furrowed in genuine confusion.

"No," Steve chuckled, "They were Cliff's. Mine were the _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_."

Nodding as he remembered, Joe turned off the lights and followed Steve up the staircase. Passing by the old yearbook pictures and the obligatory Christmas card photo, the knot in Steve's stomach started unwinding. No matter how old Steve was or how long it had been since he lived there, this would always be home.

Pausing outside the master bedroom, Joe wrapped Steve up in his arms as though he was still that scrawny kid he had been before puberty. Kissing Steve's temple, Joe wished him a goodnight, "Come get me, if you need anything."

Discreetly rolling his eyes, Steve nodded and assured, "I will. I love you."

"Love you, too, honey," Joe patted his back before pulling back and ducking into the dark, quiet master bedroom where Sarah's soft snores could be heard.

Continuing down the hallway, Steve tried to be as quiet as possible as he eased Eddie's bedroom door open. Eddie pulled his phone below the comforter as though he was fooling anyone by still being awake, and Vinnie's tail started wagging when he saw Steve.

"Isn't it a school night?" Steve teased, ruffling Eddie's messy, auburn hair.

"Didn't you move out?" Eddie retorted, bringing his phone back out and placing it on the side table.

"Thanks again for picking up Vinnie," Steve scratched the top of the Weimaraner's head, "I really appreciate it."

"I mean, it's not like I do it out of the kindness of my heart," Eddie good-naturedly scoffed, rolling onto his back as he joked, "I will let you know now though that my rates are going up."

"Okay," Steve chuckled, shaking his head.

For a moment, the pair were quiet while Vinnie licked at Steve's face, and Steve knew that he should let Eddie sleep. It was, after all, a school night. However, Eddie broke the quiet, "So…"

"So?" Steve sighed.

"Are we going to have to find a new cake shop?"

Steve swallowed thickly, "Why would we do that?"

Eddie let out a low whistle as he shook his head. Steve's brows furrowed as he watched his younger brother, amused. Steve placed his hands on his hips and asked, "What?"

"You were right," Eddie yawned, "You really can't lie to me."

"Goodnight, Edison," Steve rolled his eyes, leading the sleepy dog out of the bedroom.

"Goodnight, _Dad_ ," Eddie mocked before Steve could close the door.

Only once he was in his former childhood bedroom did Steve allow himself to take a moment for himself. Letting his shoulders slump as he leaned against the closed door. Scrubbing his hand over his face, Steve took comfort when Vinnie's wet nose pressed into the palm of his limp hand. Just like he took comfort in the crisp green plaid duvet and the amount of matching pillows as he plopped face-first onto the queen bed.

Taking after Steve, Vinnie flopped on top of him, earning a muffled laugh from the man. As Steve shifted until he could finally breathe and Vinnie's added weight was no longer threatening to smother him, Steve's back pocket started vibrating.

With furrowed brows at the time, he wiggled to grasp his phone. Just in case it was an emergency. Because after all, who else would be --

Instantly, Steve's hands started sweating. Why was Bucky calling him? _What if he's choosing to be with yo_ \-- No! Steve couldn't let himself think about it. It wasn't right. This wasn't some high school fling. Bucky was engaged. Bucky should've been calling Tony, not Steve.

For a moment, Steve just laid there, looking at his phone. Waiting, as the minute dripped into an hour, a day, a lifetime, until Steve's entire existence was linked directly to the phone in his hand and the person who was calling him. Maybe Steve should've answered, if only to tell Bucky to lose his number. Only, he'd never be able to do that. Even just thinking about it hurt.

So, Steve did the next best thing he could. Which was to change Bucky's contact name and remove the picture of the stupidly attractive man. Then, Steve turned his phone off entirely as he rolled over and hoped his tears would eventually lull him to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: recovery from kidney removal surgery is going well. Easier than I thought it would. Of course, that's probably because I didn't have to have a stent and there's no incisions with an ureteroscopy. Sure, it's still a little sore (especially with sitting and everything all scrunched up inside), but it's better than I thought it would be.
> 
> Anyway, still writing to distract myself do da doo.
> 
> Much love and appreciation  
> Minnie ❤❤❤


	35. Thirty-Five

**Thirty-Five:**

"Stop fidgeting," Cliff warned as he quickly worked to sew the hole in Eddie's suit jacket right at the cuff.

"I'm sorry," Eddie nervously replied. Seemingly using all his willpower in holding still even though Steve could see his fingers twitching, strumming at his thigh.

Julie shook her head, but the amused smirk stayed on her brown face as she teased, "Don't apologize, just hold still!"

Exasperatedly, Eddie claimed, "I'm trying."

"Try harder," Cliff commented, knotting the string and tearing the leftover off with a harsh tug. Turning Eddie's wrist back and forth, to examine his handiwork, Cliff joked, "Now, don't do anything crazy tonight and it should hold up."

"Crazy?" Eddie quirked a brow as he good-naturedly scoffed, "What do you think I'm going to be doing? It's the Spring Formal."

"Can it still be considered Spring if school's almost over?" Joe questioned, wiping the lint roller along Eddie's shoulders.

"Of course, it can," Sarah confirmed, licking at her thumb and about to swipe it over Eddie's pale, freckled cheek. Bobbing out of the way, he gave their mother an annoyed, slightly disgusted look while Sarah rolled her eyes and added, "It's the June-part that doesn't qualify it as Spring any longer."

"Summer doesn't start until school's out," Eddie commented, purposely avoiding his reflection.

"Technically," Steve argued, pushing himself off the doorframe, "The solstice is what does, and that isn't until the twentieth. So, it is still spring."

"Nerd," Eddie mocked, his shoulders easing just a bit. Only for him to tense even more than before when Birdie harshly hit his long, thin legs. "Ow! What was that for?!"

"Birdie, that wasn't very nice," Joe reprimanded while Julie warned, "You're at a two. Apologize, please."

"Uncle Eddie was mean to Uncle Steve," Birdie argued, moving her little body between Steve and Eddie as though she could protect Steve from him.

Touched, Steve ducked down and tossed the four year old up into his grasp. Her squeals melting into giggles as she tightly grappled for purchase, so she wouldn't fall. Not that Steve would ever let that happen. Instead, he hiked her small frame up on his hip and kissed her forehead.

With their faces close, he explained, "You can't hit people because you think they're being mean."

"Rich coming from you," Sarah scoffed, returning from the kitchen with the corsage and boutonniere box.

Playfully, Steve rolled his eyes, "Besides, Eddie was only teasing."

"Yeah, Bird, I was only teasing," Eddie confirmed, holding his arms out, "Now, can I have a hug?"

Tipping her chin down to her chest, her little fingers traced the faded decal on Steve's navy-blue t-shirt as she thought. Her lower lip pouted out in the same way that Cliff's did when he was concentrating, and Steve couldn't help but grin at that. Eddie looked less amused as he rolled his eyes, but didn't voice his hurry.

Then, as though she hadn't hesitated at all, Birdie turned and jumped into the teen's awaiting arms. Steve rubbed at his sore chest, only half-teasing as he smiled at the pair. Even once Julie warned that Birdie was going to wrinkle the slim, light gray suit if he didn't put her down soon. Only once the toddler went for the navy, coral, and white floral tie, did Eddie finally set Birdie down on the floor.

"Okay, let's get a couple of pictures," Joe started, holding up his cellphone.

"Dad," Eddie complained, theatrically tossing his head back to dramatically groan in annoyance at the ceiling.

"Edison Joseph," Sarah reprimanded.

Pressing his lips together, Eddie situated himself and draped his arm along Sarah's slim shoulders. Just slightly taller than their mom now, and using it to his advantage. Clearly enjoying it too, as a smug smirk tugged at his lips. With red-rimmed eyes, Sarah looked up at him as a small smile stretched her own lips.

"Need a Kleenex, ma?" Cliff teased, earning an elbow to the ribs from his wife.

"Might wanna be nice before your spawn pops ya," Steve joked, allowing Birdie to wrap her hand around his finger and twirl herself.

Playfully, Cliff rolled his eyes, but didn't say anything else. Instead, he stepped forward to get his picture taken as well. And since Cliff was, Steve did too. Taking his place on the other side of Sarah while Cliff stood behind her. It was their typical go-to stance as the three sons stood almost protectively over their petite mother.

"Oh, now I'm really going to cry," Sarah mocked as she looked up at her three sons.

"Geez, Mom," Cliff scoffed while Birdie aggressively shook her head, "No, don't cry, Mimi!"

Sniffling, Sarah waved at her face with one hand and gesturing for Joe to join them for just one of the pictures. As Joe passed the phone to Julie, he hurried to take his place on the other side of Eddie. Smoothing down the youngest's auburn hair before posing for the picture.

"Now one with Birdie," Cliff prompted when Joe and Sarah started removing themselves from the huddle.

Eddie actually whined, "Mom."

"Edison," Sarah mocked, earning a chuckle from Steve and a glare from Eddie. Sarah appeased, "Just one picture, and then you can leave."

"Fine," Eddie sighed as he lifted Birdie into his arms. Balancing on his hip while Steve fixed her navy blue and white polka dot dress so her _Frozen II_ undies wouldn't be caught on camera.

Of course, once the pair started posing for the camera with kisses on cheeks and funny faces, it was definitely more than just one picture. Not that anyone minded. Eventually though, Eddie set Birdie down and grabbed the box from the Rogers' Garden Flower Shop, ready to go.

"Remember to call if you need a ride," Sarah reminded, straightening the knot of Eddie's floral tie.

"I know," Eddie smiled, excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Hey," Sarah teased, bringing him closer so he'd have to look at her, "Be good."

"You mean, you don't want to have another grandkid?" Eddie joked as he backed away from his mom with his hands held up to show he meant no harm.

All the while, Sarah and Joe both exclaimed, "That's not funny, young man."

"You had The Talk with him, right?" Steve mocked as he gleefully followed Eddie out of the house towards his car.

"Must've forgotten," Sarah deadpanned while Joe added, "Was saving that blunder for you."

Shaking his head, Steve chuckled and unlocked his Lexus. Feeling lighter than he had all week as he climbed in behind the steering wheel. Sure, it felt like his heart had been put in a blender, but for a moment, Steve could forget about that. Especially when Eddie put on some pop-rock song and instantly started singing along with it. Steve could do this. He could be normal. He could be the happy big brother dropping his kid brother off at his date's house. He could.


	36. Thirty-Six

**Thirty-Six:**

Pulling up along the curb of the Tudor house, Steve's palms began to sweat. He wasn't even the one meeting a date there. He was hardly even a chaperone. Yet, seeing all the teens and their parents and siblings around made Steve feel like the scrawny high schooler he had once been.

"Okay," Steve sighed, turning to look over at Eddie.

Eddie mimicked his movement and prompted, "Okay…?"

"Call me, if you need anything," Steve counted off on his fingers, "Don't accept drinks from _anyone_ , and if you do choose to be sexual tonight -- which I don't agree with, but can't stop you from doing -- please remember to use protection. Got it?"

"Got it," Eddie nodded, a blush on his pale freckled cheeks and his teeth in his lower lip.

Leaning forward, Steve softly questioned, "What's up?"

Eddie shrugged, "I just… What if… what if she doesn’t wanna dance with me?"

"Then, you find someone else to dance with," Steve's heart clenched, hoping with everything he had in him that Daisy didn't break his baby brother's heart. Grasping Eddie's shoulder, he reassured, "But there's no way that she won't want to. Not only are you the cutest Rogers', but you're also the best dancer. You're gonna knock her dead."

"Okay," Eddie nodded, taking in a deep breath as though trying to hype himself up. Reaching over the center console, Eddie gave Steve a quick hug before climbing out of the car.

"Ed!" Steve called out when he noticed the corsage box on the dashboard. Eddie turned back to the car and Steve pointed at the box. Smiling when Eddie bashfully reached in through the window to grab it, and Steve told him, "Have fun."

"Thanks, Steve," Eddie grinned, turning once and for all as he joined the ground of teenagers.

For a moment, Steve just sat there. He couldn't believe that his baby brother was going to his first Spring Formal. He couldn't believe that his baby brother had a date to his Spring Formal. It felt like only yesterday, Steve was nervously getting ready for his own Spring Formal. Sure, he never danced at it, unless Natasha made him. But with the way that Daisy met Eddie halfway, Steve knew that his brother had nothing to worry --

A knock to Steve's window startled him. Nearly causing him to jump out of his skin as his heart aggressively pounded against his ribs as though it were trying to escape. And when he turned to look up at the culprit, Steve wished that it would already. Just burst right through his chest and run off with stupid Bucky Barnes.

Stupid Bucky Barnes who was leaning down, peering into Steve's window to look at him. An unsure smile was on his aggravatingly handsome face, and Steve wanted to both kiss him and run him over. He was just…

"Knock, knock?" Bucky asked, worrying his lower lip as he lightly tapped his knuckle on the glass.

Slowly, Steve rolled down the window while he took in a shallow breath and begged for his hands to stop shaking. Not looking at the brunet, Steve greeted, "Hey."

"Can we talk?" Bucky asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Um," Steve worried his lower lip with his teeth as he tried to think of an excuse.

Bucky hurried, "It's okay, if not. I just wanted… It's okay, we don't have to."

Despite himself, Steve wanted to know what Bucky had to say. He had, after all, been ignoring Bucky's phone calls for the past week. So, he asked, "What do you want to talk about?"

"Well," Bucky puffed out his cheeks as he blew out the breath, "I was hoping that I could apologize, for starters."

Although his mind was warning him that this was a bad idea, his heart was threatening that this might be his last shot with Bucky. So, Steve unlocked the car and waited for Bucky to cross in front of it and eventually slide into the passenger seat.

Angling his body so his undivided attention was on Steve, Bucky began, "I'm sorry. I was selfish and I really should've asked you if you were okay with doing… that. I know that it's an… unusual… type of relationship and not everyone is okay with it. And I should've asked you about it first instead of just assuming. So, yeah, I'm sorry."

Steve hadn't been expecting that. Not even after Bucky had claimed he wanted to apologize. Mainly, Steve had been expecting some half-ass apology where it went, _I'm sorry IF I offended you_.

Choosing his words very carefully, Steve decided, "I accept your apology."

"Really?" Bucky let out a sigh of relief. Steve looked over at the brunet then and nodded his confirmation. Bucky eased in the soft worn-leather seat and asked, "So, can we be… friends… again…?"

Taking in a deep breath that didn't do nearly enough to calm him, Steve knew that he couldn't. No matter how badly he wanted to. He just… couldn't.

So, running his hand through his hair for something to do with his hands, Steve shook his head and declined, "That's not a good idea. I just… I still… I can't. Now, don't get me wrong, I want you to be happy. I really, really want you to be happy and do what makes you happy. But I got too close to you, and I wouldn't be a good friend if we tried again right now because all I'd be thinking about is…"

"Us," Bucky sadly, quietly supplied, looking down at his hands.

"Yeah," Steve confirmed, biting his lip again. "I just… need time… before I can be the friend that you deserve."

Silently, Bucky nodded his acceptance. Tongue momentarily darting out to wet his lips as he stared at the dashboard for a moment. Keeping his attention off Steve, Bucky finally said, "Thank you, for listening to me. I… I'm gonna go."

Mutely, Steve simply nodded. Not trusting his voice enough to vocally say goodbye to Bucky. Hoping that eventually they'd be able to be friends. But in that moment, it was too much. Especially when Bucky climbed out of Steve's car and discreetly wiped at his tears.


	37. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

Days turned into weeks. Weeks into months. It all went by so quickly that Steve felt like he hadn't even blinked the tears from his eyes. Only, the tears had dried up in the last eight months.

A lot had changed in the last eight months.

Babysitting his nephews and niece more. Hanging out with Sam. Spending some much needed quality time with Natasha. Chaperoning Eddie and Daisy at a concert to a band that Steve had never heard of and probably wouldn't be looking up on his own. Accepting a few phone numbers. Even going on some dates that led no further than a polite, "It was nice to meet you," at the end.

Twisting his longer hair into a small bun at the nape of his neck, Steve went about his morning routine. Brushing his teeth, grooming his beard. The boring stuff that Steve's tired mind could do on autopilot. Which was exactly the way he preferred it.

"Ready to run?" Steve asked Vinnie, leading the way into the kitchen and retrieving one of the homemade mint dog treats from the glass jar. They weren't Vinnie's favorite, but he still gobbled it up in two impressive bites. Leaving his breath just a little fresher.

Shaking his head, Steve zipped Vinnie's jacket-harness onto his large frame and gratefully accepted the slobbery kiss from the Weimaraner. Smiling, Steve scratched Vinnie between his ears before standing and grabbing his own lightweight jacket.

"Ready?" Steve asked, with the fleece item zipped all the way up and clipping the leash to Vinnie.

The dog's tail wagged, and Steve took that as a, "Yes!"

Making sure that his keys were in his black joggers, Steve led the way out of the complex. Instantly starting to run as soon as they reached the sidewalk. Although it was February, Steve was glad that most of the snow had melted and salt wasn't needed due to not enough ice slicking the cement. It was extremely helpful when he didn't have to worry about Vinnie's poor paws.

Running their usual track to the park, through the park, and on their way home. Only, today Steve changed up their routine. Deciding that it would be nice to swing by for something sweet. After all, he had made some progress. Instead of just liking each other's social media posts, Steve had started commenting on some of Bucky's posts. So, really, Steve deserved a cupcake.

Breathing heavily, Steve tied Vinnie's leash to the bench across from What's the Batter With You. Figuring that it was a good thing that his breathing was labored from the run since it drew the attention away from his shaking hands. Which was greatly appreciated.

Since Steve had been taking his morning runs later in the morning due to the winter bite, he entered the shop no later than ten minutes of it being open. Internally, Steve mocked himself for seeming so eager. Especially after all this time later.

"Hi there," a thin, young black woman greeted from behind the counter.

"Hi," Steve breathlessly replied, stepping closer so he could get a better look. Looking over the red, white, and pink cupcakes in the display, Steve couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Directing his attention to the menu board, he was pleasantly surprised to see that there were three new cupcakes added. Although it wasn't Valentine's Day just yet, there were themed cupcakes ready to go.

As he read over the new editions: _Rocky Road to Your Heart_ , _Your Kiss Is On My List,_ and _Hoping It's Not Too Late_ , Steve's heart stuttered over the fourth one. For a moment, Steve couldn't breathe at all. Feeling as though all the air ever had been removed entirely as he read: _I Should've Said, "I Love You, Too"_.

Eyes roaming over the spicy dark chocolate cake with cinnamon and cayenne cream cheese frosting, Steve wanted to believe that it was for him. And while half of him was floating on cloud nine at even the possibility, the other half was desperately clinging to the ground to remain levelheaded.

"Steve?" That familiar voice broke through his thoughts, causing his attention to snap over to the kitchen door. His steel-blue eyes wide as he looked over Steve like he was a ghost. And hell, maybe he was. He sure felt like one in that moment: numb and transparent. Running his hand through his newly cut hair -- short, more akin to the way it was in high school, Steve had thought when he saw the picture on facebook -- Bucky asked, "What are you doing here? Not that I don't want you here -- because I do, I'm just surprised is all. Considering how things… yeah… You look good."

"I, uh," Steve started, gesturing towards the front of the shop where Vinnie was tied up outside, "Was running."

"Right," Bucky nodded and offered, "Vinnie can come in. It's pretty chilly out there and I can't imagine he's happy being out there."

"Okay," Steve nodded, agreeing as he awkwardly crossed the shop to get the Weimaraner. Not quite understanding why he was so awkward. Bucky owned the cake shop, for crying out loud, of course, he was going to be there!

Still, Steve wasn't expecting to see him. Wasn't expecting his heart trying to escape his chest to Bucky either. It had been eight months, and really, Steve had expected to be over the attractive brunet by now. Or maybe, hoping, was a better term. After all, none of the dates had dissuaded his heart from beating for Bucky Barnes.

When Steve returned to the shop, he noted that the other employee wasn't there now. The part that wanted to be overjoyed in the moment wanted to believe that she had left to give them some alone time. However, Bucky explained, "Shuri is getting some fresh pupcakes."

"Oh, he'll love that," Steve deadpanned, petting Vinnie's head.

"So, um," Bucky started but stopped almost immediately. Worrying his lower lip with his teeth, he kept his gaze on the counter before asking, "Can I get you a cupcake?"

At the mention of cupcakes, Steve looked up at the menu again. Eyes lingering on that one specific cupcake that he hoped was his, in some way. In any way. Chewing on the inside of his cheek, he approached the counter and looked over the display cupcakes. Bringing his gaze up to Bucky, he tried not to look away when their eyes locked and questioned, "What do you suggest?"

"Well," Bucky pressed his lips together as he thought and Steve briefly watched the movement. "Why don't I surprise you? You take a seat and I'll join you?"

"Okay," Steve readily agreed and headed over to one of the two seater tables. Hand still shaking as he pulled the chair out for himself.

Before Steve could even take his seat, Bucky was joining him. Setting one plate down in front of Steve and the other in front of himself, Bucky took his seat. Stealing glances of Steve as he did so.

"So, how've you been?" Bucky asked.

"Fine," Steve lamely answered. More interested in Bucky, "You?"

"Fine," Bucky repeated, fighting a smirk. Glancing down at the cupcake, Bucky confessed, "I broke up with Tony."

Steve wasn't sure what to say to that. He already knew that due to them being friends online. Not that Steve had been counting the days or anything. But it did take thirty-seven days after the night they kissed for Bucky to make a post updating everyone that the wedding was off and to change his relationship status to single.

"I know, I saw," Steve bashfully decided on, ears red as he focused on the cupcake in front of him. Chocolate cake with spicy cream cheese frosting.

"Yeah, I guess you would," Bucky good-naturedly scoffed at himself. Then, he chuckled and admitted, "I don't know why, but I kinda expected you to be more enthusiastic."

"Why's that?" Steve's brows furrowed as he studied the brunet in front of him.

Bucky ran his hand through his tousled hair while the grin grew on his face, "I mean, it should be obvious, shouldn't it?"

Steve's heart slammed against his ribs at that, and he softly pleaded, "Spell it out for me?"

"Starting over?" Eyes flickering around Steve's face, Bucky conceded, "You. Me. Mexican food. Maybe a movie. This Friday works for me."

"This Friday is Valentine's Day," Steve nearly gasped at the realization.

"I know," Bucky confirmed. Chewing on his lip, he confessed, "I don't want to miss my chance and mess this up."

Biting back his grin, Steve teased, "Bucky Barnes, are you asking me to be your Valentine?"

"Absolutely," Bucky readily answered, leaving Steve stunned just the slightest bit. "And I'm hoping since I made you your own cupcake, you'll agree."

"Which cupcake?" Steve wondered aloud, hoping that he was right.

It must have showed in his expression because Bucky threw a crumpled napkin as he confirmed, "You already know!"

"Wishful thinking?" Steve shrugged as he caught the napkin.

Playfully, Bucky rolled his eyes as he feigned exasperation, "What am I going to do with you?"

Grinning at the brunet, Steve placed his arm on the table with his palm up. Hoping that Bucky would accept it. Hoping that this was the start they both wanted. Both needed. Both deserved. After everything that they had been through, Steve really didn't feel like beginning again. He desperately hoped that this would be his last beginning when it came to his heart.

As Bucky placed his hand in Steve's and laced their fingers together, Steve knew that it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's that saying? "Every new beginning is some other beginning's end," or something???


End file.
